


What You Make of It

by Alabaster_Crow



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alabaster_Crow/pseuds/Alabaster_Crow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her stunning success at the Winter Palace, the Inquisitor finds herself firmly entrenched in Orlesian court politics and worse yet; Attracted to the new Emperor. If only she hadn’t given in and agreed to celebrate Gaspard's victory with him that first night in Halamshiral…</p><p>Note: This story surmises that the Inquisitor truly is Andraste's Herald.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Difficult Decisions

L’thae Lavellan, Inquisitor, and the sole survivor of a singularity event that resulted in the obliteration of Haven and the formation of an enormous fade rift, had just managed to survive an experience nearly as harrowing: A grand ball at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral.

The past five hours had been a draining combination of sleuth work, surveillance, trespassing, self-defense, dancing, manipulation, and of course; keeping up with “The Game”. At times during the evening she’d wanted to throttle the clueless, self-centered prigs who dallied, gossiped, lied, and literally packed nearly every corner of the palace. It outraged her to think that these sheep were the people whose machinations dictated the order of society in the Empire. Why should they, of all people, have a hand in keeping the elves in Orlais shackled?

L’thae sighed, and carefully smoothed a few silver white stray hairs back into her neatly arranged hairstyle. In the end, she and the Inquisition had triumphed; Grand Duke Gaspard De Chalons now ruled Orlais, as was always his right, and she’d managed to install Briala as his advisor. Regrettably, Celene De Valmont had been sacrificed, another casualty of the game she herself had played so well.

L’thae had heard her commander once use a phrase she now embraced; “Live by the Sword, die by the Sword”. Curiosity had overcome her and she’d asked him to explain it to her.

“It means that you can expect to become a victim of whatever means you use to get what it is you desire,” he’d replied.

Well, she thought, that pretty much summed up Celene’s fate. In manipulating the Council of Heralds into crowning her the ruler of Orlais, when the throne, by all rights and laws of succession actually belonged to her cousin, and in burning down the alienage just to prove to her people that she was not “soft” on elves, she’d put into motion the events which led to her death this night.

As for Grand Duke Gaspard; he had been raised his entire life believing that he would one day be emperor, and had spent the last twenty years plotting ceaselessly to take his birthright back. He had actually even offered marriage to his cousin in the hopes of uniting their nation, and been immediately turned down. How ironic that the person he trusted and loved most; his sister Florianne, had outplayed them both, killing Celene with the intention of framing him. It would have worked all too well, as surely not one noble in attendance would have questioned the guilt of the man who had come to be known as the great usurper.

L’thae shook her head at this. How bizarre that he should have been labelled with that name when it was actually Celene who had usurped the throne… And even if Florianne had not murdered Celene, Gaspard would have been found guilty of treason. Celene had set a trap guaranteed to catch him in the act of attempting a coup.

And above all; If not for the Inquisition, acting on her orders, Gaspard would now be missing his head, and Florianne would be empress; Corypheus using all his power to make certain no one could oppose his puppet’s rule. L’thae’s nemesis would have won the day and the nightmarish future she’d witnessed at Redcliff, courtesy of Alexius, would most likely have become their reality.

She’d learned a valuable lesson this night; Corypheus was not to be underestimated when it came to his ability to sway key pawns into carrying out his plans. Thank goodness the new emperor was not one to be swayed.

And that thought had her admitting to herself that not all the nobles in attendance were sheep; there were some wolves at court as well, and they were very dangerous ones at that. She glanced to her right, at the man standing by her side; the man who’d just assumed the throne, and she half smiled when she found that he was glancing surreptitiously at her in turn.

Before she could say anything, Gaspard made a small gesture towards the side balcony and offered her his arm. Taking it, she allowed him to lead her off in that direction, with two of the royal guard falling in behind them.

As they walked, she took a deep breath to steady herself, for the moment she’d curled her arm around his, her heart had begun beating wildly. What was this power he seemed to hold over her? She’d heard tales of some of her people forming instant life-bonds upon first meeting, but could scarce believe that such a thing could happen between one of them and a shemlen. She wasn’t even certain she believed those stories to begin with, and yet…

From the moment Gaspard had greeted her at the main gates, she’d felt an undeniable, intense attraction toward him; one it seemed that he returned. It thrilled her, but at the same time left her feeling ashamed. This was a man who looked upon her people as inferior.

Taking another slow, deep breath, she did her best to suppress all outward signs of her emotional turmoil. As she schooled her features, L’thae glanced quickly around the room, and caught her commander watching Gaspard with a disapproving look upon his face. The look she shot him in return had him quickly looking away, but not before his face flushed scarlet.

Poor Cullen. She was aware that he entertained an affection for her; one she had initially returned.

Unfortunately, as the months had dragged by, she’d given up on any hope of him acting upon it. She’d tried on several occasions to draw him out, but to no avail, and finally had concluded that despite his interest, he found an elf to be unworthy of him. It was something that had truly saddened her, but she’d finally put it behind her and had chalked it up to nothing more than a mutual attraction to the forbidden.

She’d been foolish to think that Cullen, who had more integrity than most humans, would risk starting a relationship that his family would never sanction. For a human man of any social standing to have feelings for an elf, would be frowned down upon in their society, and from what she knew of the commander, he was not the sort to go against expectations.

As for her; she was already considered an outsider by her clan simply for having joined the inquisition. To join herself with a human would effectively make her dead in her former clan’s eyes. There were so few of them left in the world as it was that bearing only human children was not something that could be forgiven.

Perhaps this was her fate; she’d always felt an unnatural attraction towards humans, but by the Dread Wolf such a union would be difficult enough, even if her chosen was completely devoted to their bond; it would be impossible if he feared social reprisal.

Ever since she was a very young girl she’d heard stories of the shemlen; of how large and strong they were. Few of the Lavellans had ever actually met any shemlen, and those in the clan who had encountered them loved to tell tales about what they were like. Still, that had not prepared her for her first meeting with humans, which had not occurred until she attended the conclave. The females looked so strongly built that she felt like a slip of a child next to them. As for the males; the very sight of them made her quiver with excitement.

When she’d closed the fade rift outside the Tomb of Sacred Ashes and first met Cullen, her eyes must have been as large as dinner plates. Until that moment he’d been the largest person she’d ever seen; ferocious in battle, his lion helm frightening. When he’d approached, and removed the helm to reveal himself an incredibly attractive blonde, she was amazed she’d been able to speak up and answer his questions. She’d carried around a girlish crush for him for many months afterwards before finally giving up all hope.

Why did she have to have such a dangerous attraction to human men? Was it because of their size? They were huge, with exaggerated male characteristics; large muscles, heavy brows, facial and body hair, and much deeper voices. Was it that the exaggerated masculinity of the shemlen men sang to something deep within her?

Whatever the reason was, it seemed clear to her that if she survived her battle with Corypheus, it was likely that she would eventually take a human mate. She’d tried not to think of complications that would arise from such a union, but now she knew she was standing on a slippery slope, for this very evening she’d entered the front gates of the Winter Palace, and come face to face with the one she was apparently destined to be with; the Grand Duke, now the Emperor of all Orlais, by her very hand.

It was too much to think this could ever turn out well. It had to be some grand jest meted out upon them by their Gods. Still, as far as jests went, it was a pleasant one, at least for now.

Gaspard was even larger than Cullen, and powerfully built despite that she’d heard he was in his fifties. Although he wore a mask as all nobles did while in public, it did little to hide a full lower lip, and very strong jawline. His hair was cropped very close and shot through with silver, as was the stubble on his face. As for his eyes; they were a clear, pale gray; the color of refined and polished silverite, and they glittered reflectively despite the shadows cast around them by his mask. His eyes darted frequently, seemingly taking in everything, but when they’d interacted, he’d appraised her frankly, bestowing his undivided attention upon her. Those same eyes had softened and twinkled with amusement as he’d bowed and kissed her hand, and when he spoke, his voice was like the softest, thickest velvet…

Before departing Skyhold, L’thae had been careful to read everything she could find about the man and the civil war situation in Orlais. Most of what she’d read had convinced her that she was going to have a hard time acting cordial around him; he just seemed to be so single-mindedly fixated on seizing the crown for himself.

But then she’d also been formally and thoroughly briefed about him by her advisors, and learned much that the history books had omitted or twisted.

Cullen had briefed her on Gaspard’s military background and reputation; He was an exceptionally skilled and renowned Chevalier with many victories to his name, and was well known for his sense of honor, even when it came to dealing with his opponents. He refused to torture prisoners, treated his enemies with respect, and honored all truces and agreements. She learned that the Grand Duke believed strongly that honor does not preclude tactics, and that he was skilled at interpreting the Chevalier's code to his advantage. There were known situations where the code had forced him to do the disadvantageous thing, and each time, Gaspard had chosen his honor over victory. His army of Chevaliers loved him, and they would remain fiercely loyal to him regardless of the outcome at Halamshiral. Rumors also indicated that a large faction of the Orlesian army was also loyal to him; something Celene might not be aware of.

Because of these qualities, the Commander had advised that Gaspard was the far better candidate for an alliance. He felt that, as Emperor, The Grand Duke would honor his word in all things, and thus never betray them, whereas Celene would most assuredly do so at the first opportunity to gain from it.

Josephine had been adamantly in favor of saving Empress Celene, but when pressed she’d cautioned that the Grand Duke was well known to be fiendishly charming when the situation called for it. She had no doubt that he would not be anything less than honest with them in discussing his goals for the Empire. However, Josie cautioned that those goals were well known to include war-mongering, expansionism, and ruling through force rather than diplomacy. If the Inquisition were to ally with him, there would need to be a signed agreement that was very specific indeed with regards to the Duke’s sanctioned dealings and the Inquisition’s expectations. And, she’d added that L’thae would need to be instrumental in steering him away from hostilities with Fereldan and reminding him of the most immediate threats.

Leliana’s appraisal of the man had been more clinical. She reported that Gaspard De Chalons had retained much of his martial skill, despite his age. His supporters continued to see him as the rightful emperor, as he was the eldest of the late Emperor Florian's grandchildren. He’d spent most of his youth as a royal prince raised to believe that he would be Emperor one day. It was only the preliminary machinations of Celene’s mother, and Celene’s own machinations with the Council of Heralds that had put her ahead of Gaspard. Many claimed that she’d bestowed lavish favors upon the Council members in her efforts to win their support. Leliana added that the Grand Duke made no bones about the fact that he dislikes the Game, and would prefer to rule through force rather than diplomacy. He’d been quoted as saying that politics are too muddy and gray; in war, you either win or you die. She’d followed up by saying that she believed that an alliance with the Inquisition, if carefully negotiated, would ensure that the Duke remained diplomatic in his political dealings.

During the course of the night, and after uncovering deceit and treachery all around, L’thae had done her best to judge the principle players based upon their ability to lead the nation and become and remain a strong ally to the Inquisition.

Florianne had shocked even her by revealing that she’d already fallen to Corypheus’s influence. Briala would have done so eventually if promised freedom and respect for the elves. Celene would have remained their ally only until she saw more to gain by betraying them.

Only Gaspard had the honor that would tie him steadfastly to the Inquisition once he pledged himself their ally. Only Gaspard had a chance of providing an heir of the bloodline, thus ensuring future stability for Orlais. And so she’d decided that it was in everyone’s best interest to see his birthright restored.

Once Florianne had tipped her hand, she’d given Cullen the most difficult order she’d ever had to make; to allow the Grand Duchess to follow through in her plan to assassinate Celene, and attempt to frame her brother.

It had been a horrific thing to watch Celene’s betrayal and death, and the ensuing battle in the garden against Florianne and her assassins had been a brutal one. Yet, in the end, L’thae had beaten her, capturing her alive (out of deference to Gaspard).

Her first inclination was to allow Gaspard to have Briala executed, if for no other reason than to prevent her from undermining his rule or continuing to plot against him. But knowing that Gaspard was not very diplomatic, whereas Briala was capable of charming the socks off even a chantry sister, she’d re-thought the situation.

She had enough information to blackmail both of them; so why not force Gaspard to accept Briala as his advisor? She hadn’t put it that way; she was no fool. Gaspard would be Emperor and his pride had to be preserved, so she’d made a very strong suggestion to him that having Briala as his chief advisor would make him a far more effective and loved ruler. Through her, his rule would gain a measure of support from the Orlais’ elves, and perhaps together they might find a way forward that would not end with a bloody rebellion.

After mulling it over for less than a minute, Gaspard had sighed and accepted the idea, telling them both that only a foolish monarch would turn a blind eye towards such clear indications of future unrest. He’d formally welcomed Briala and made it clear that they should forget their past interactions and at least treat each other cordially and respectfully.  
Briala had whole-heartedly accepted her new position, and why she wouldn’t she? It was a chance to not only live, but to make things better for her people.

Not long afterwards Gaspard had quickly been officially endorsed as successor to the throne by the Council of Heralds, and thus, the Inquisition had triumphed.

She’d stood up with the new Emperor as he’d addressed the court, and his speech had been a fine one; both diplomatic and rousing. She’d then made her own speech endorsing him and their joint cause. In the aftermath, they’d continued to stand there together, silently taking everything in and watching as the guests were politely ushered out. A profound sense of accomplishment had settled over her, but so too had fatigue. She’d wanted nothing better than to bathe, and then spend a bit more time in Gaspard’s company, but he was now the Emperor, and it was no longer her place to suggest anything.

And now here they were; the two of them arm in arm, walking out onto the balcony as the palace guards closed the doors after them, while remaining within the ballroom to make sure that they were not disturbed.

“Come, my dear,” Gaspard entreated softly, as he took her hand, unwound it from his arm, and tangling their fingers together, began leading her towards a corner next to the building, “over here; where we can neither be seen nor heard.”

To her great surprise, as they reached their destination he bowed deeply. “There are many who say that I am a proud man, but this is not the truth. Honor must ever come before pride; and many a time have I bowed upon my knee when circumstance demanded I do so. I tell you right now that you have my everlasting thanks for all that you have done this night. You’ve accomplished what I was unable to do all these years past; you’ve placed me in a position to save Orlais. You even spared my sister, when it cannot be denied that she deserves a traitor’s death, therefore you must also have done this for me. That knowledge humbles me yet again. He straightened up and nodded. “And last, but not least, you put an end to Briala’s scheming by placing her in a position which encourages her to actually help, rather than hinder me; a brilliant solution.”

“Your Radiance,” she addressed him, as she felt her face flush, “there is no need to thank me; I did what I felt was the right thing, which is what I always strive to do.”

“Yes; that is what I find most admirable about you,” he replied, dropping her hand only long enough to remove his mask and place it carefully on the stone banister beside them.

L’thae’s heart began pounding again as he turned back to face her and she saw his face for the first time. Gaspard was not a particularly handsome man, nor did he have any features that could be called refined. She’d heard him referred to by those few who’d seen his face as having a rugged, hawk-like appearance, and she had to agree with that assessment.

He might have been attractive once, long ago; before too many battles took their toll on him. His aquiline nose had surely been broken multiple times and was bent a bit to the left, but was balanced out by full, sensuous lips and bushy, arched eyebrows. Some might think his eyes to be too close set, but their unique silver color, and sharp, intelligent expression pleased her greatly. His jaw was even more pronounced than she’d first thought, and his prominent cheekbones were set high, effectively making his face a rectangular shape. Despite the damage he’d taken during the many years of his military career, the years had still been kind to him. He wore most of his wrinkles on his forehead. The deep lines around his eyes were of little consequence in her opinion, when compared to the prominent scar on his left cheek.

The scar was undoubtedly the product of a dirk wielded in close quarters, and was of the type produced when a slicing weapon slashed down into the flesh and then was yanked outward off the line of its edge in the opposite direction, resulting in a devastating tear. The wound started on his outer check, in line with his earlobe, and ran in a slightly curved path upwards to just below his left eye. She could tell it had been expertly tended by a mage with advanced healing knowledge, but some things just could not be put together as they’d once been. The scar had faded over time and was now a pale white at its thinnest margins and a pink color at the area of worst damage.

As a warrior herself, she was used to seeing such things, and had more than a few of her own, so the scar did not put her off in the least. No, Gaspard was not a handsome man, but in her eyes he was very attractive, and extremely virile.

Realizing that he was watching her intently, she blushed and tried to think of something to say.

“Yes, yes; I can see your reaction to my face… and it pleases me greatly,” he smirked. Quite different from what I am used to, as you can imagine.”

“Well, I should think you would expect as much when you play with sheltered, spoiled little girls,” she replied.

He seemed amused, and studied her for a moment. “For the record, there have been very few women since my wife died, and they were all around my own age. They all tired of me well before I tired of them. Those I spoke of were the servants, who from time to time, see me unmasked. They are not always careful about hiding their reactions.”

L’thae felt her face flame, and bowed her head in embarrassment. What had prompted her to say such a thing to him? “My apologies,” she stammered. “I was trying to be humorous, however it seems I’ve just let you in on my greatest failing; I am a decidedly unfunny person.”

Capturing both her hands, he bowed slightly as he raised them up to his mouth, and tutted. “Come now; there is no need for you to apologize – not to me; ever. Your position as both Inquisitor, and Andraste’s herald, should by all rights have rendered you dull by now, but you are very far from that.” He gently pressed his lips to the knuckles of each of her hands. His lips lingered as he continued to lock eyes with her. “I think that I can settle for you not being particularly funny.”

To her complete mortification, a barely audible groan escaped her.

Gaspard’s eyebrows twitched upwards, as he made a low pitched sound of pleasure. His ensuing smile revealed impressively straight teeth that were still in excellent shape; the hallmark of upper echelon human society. Still holding both her hands, he leaned in close, his breath tickling her left ear as he murmured, “I am glad to see that my face has not put you off.”

Despite being flustered, L’thae somehow managed to school her features as she thought how to respond.

And suddenly a musical, ethereal voice whispered in her other ear, "He is not your Mafereth."

She caught the lady's unmistakable form gliding away out of the corner of her right eye, and instantly froze in place as she always did when the apparition made an appearance.

She was not, however, prepared for Gaspard to simultaneously gasp and jump away from her. When she turned her eyes towards him, she was surprised to see the wild, shocked look on his face as he stared at a point to her right. Then the man let out a strangled, "Zut alors!" just before going down on one knee and bowing his head.

Even before she began to turn, L’thae knew this would not be a typical visitation. Always before, the Lady had spoken only a sentence or two and vanished almost before she saw her, and never before had she appeared to anyone but her herald.

There she stood, hands clasped before her, as ethereal robes trailed behind her, seemingly vaporizing at the edges. She met L'thae's gaze with calm, tourmaline-colored eyes and a small upturning of her mouth.

L'thae curtsied low and dropped her gaze. She could not help but shiver uncontrollably as her lady began to move closer.

Surprisingly, it was Gaspard that the lady stopped before. "Who am I?" she asked.

Gaspard swallowed convulsively several times before he was able to answer. "My lady, I would know you anywhere. You are the Makers bride; our blessed Andraste."

The Lady nodded. "We ask a boon of our new emperor."

"Anything!" He exclaimed immediately. "You have only to name it."

"I ask for Florianne."

Gaspard nodded his assent. "She is yours, my lady."

Andraste then approached L'thae, and placing her cool, but now solid hand under her chin, gently lifted her head so their eyes met. "You are my herald, and my chosen champion. Soon all will know this."

The lady moved her hand to L'thae's head and gently smoothed back her hair as a vision of what was required of her filled her mind.

"It will be done, my lady," she breathed, and a second later she and Gaspard were left alone again.

She and the new Emperor stared at each other for a long moment as she struggled to think of what she could say to him. In the end it was Gaspard who broke the silence.

"May I ask; What is to become of my sister?"

She moved to stand beside him. "After what she did, you still care?" she asked gently.

He fixed her with a sad look. "She is still my sister. Let's just say that I find myself ... conflicted."

L'thae sighed. "Our lady will use her to spread her message. Florianne will not be harmed."

Gaspard nodded, and then reached out to take her hand and pull her up against him. Wrapping her in his arms, he rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I find myself quite overwhelmed," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "It is one thing to believe, but quite another to come face-to-face with Andraste herself..."

She shook her head. "Never has she appeared to another, and never before has she appeared to me for more than a fleeting moment. This is unpresedented."

As she tilted her head to look up at him, he surprised her by planting a quick kiss on her forehead. "It has been quite the night, ma chere, and I find myself desperately in need of a drink. The ballroom is nearly empty by now, and your people are surely wondering what we are up to. Might I be able to talk you into sharing some fine wine with me? We have many things we should discuss; both political and… otherwise."

Andraste's appearance had reminded her of where her priorities lay, and with some misgiving she found herself attempting to bow out. “I thank you for your kind invitation, your highness, but it is growing quite late, and I really do need to get washed up, and changed into something not covered with blood splatter. I imagine that my advisors will want to meet as well…”

The new Emperor’s smile faltered as he looked her over, but then he laughed. “I cannot believe that I did not notice the blood, but then again, why would I, after having been distracted away from your lovely self by Andraste herself?"

L'thae froze, unable to think of a single thing to say.

"Ah, and see how she blushes at my words!" he continued. "Come now; we both despise verisimilitude, and I want more of your time; I wish to get to know you better, and I know you want the same of me. You will find that life at the Winter Palace revolves around the night; people here stay up until all hours, and sleep late into the afternoon.” He ran the back of his hand over her cheek and then down the side of her neck, and she trembled with delight, as he whispered, “Are you certain that you haven’t the time for me tonight?”

“You are a dangerously persuasive man, De Chalons,” she whispered softly, as her resolve crumbled. So much for duty. “Please, at least allow me to go get tidied up first.”

Gaspard sighed and nodded affirmatively. “Might I suggest my quarters for privacy’s sake?”

“Privacy? Unless you have a secret entrance to your rooms, people will most definitely be talking,” she quipped. “… and yes; I know where your rooms are. Sorry about the blood…”

Rather than seeming surprised by her words, he snorted. “And to think that you do not believe yourself to be funny! Oh, but I find your company enjoyable! Thank you for the warning, nevertheless, I’m certain the floors have already been mopped spotless, and for the record... I do not know of any secret entrance to my chambers.” He reached out to clasp and squeeze her hand reassuringly. “As for the rest; let them talk; what will they say besides that Orlais and the Inquisition have close ties?” He bowed with a flourish. “Now, I’d best let you go; I think I hear your commander bellowing at my guards…”

She turned towards the doors as he retrieved his mask, but then looked back at him over her shoulder. “Gaspard… my affections have never been bestowed upon any man. I hold myself in high regard. I am Dalish, and not someone to be had and then discarded. Do you understand?”

He bowed, his eyes never leaving her face. “Any man who would think of treating our lady's herald so shabbily would deserve the Maker's wrath. Fortunately, I merely wish to spend more time in your good company." He smiled so genuinely that she could not help but smile back.

She nodded. "Until later then."

====================

Once he’d returned to his private rooms, Gaspard removed his mask, threw the window open and stood before it taking in the foggy scenery outside, while breathing deeply of the cool, fragrant night air. Truth be told, he was feeling giddy with accomplishment and relief, but at the same time overwrought by the sudden supernatural visitation. Never had he experienced so many emotions at once, and all revolving around one person!

L'thae.

Never had he felt such an attraction. Never had he wanted a woman so badly. She made him weak in the knees; him! A man who feared little and never quaked before the unknown... at least not until today.

He braced his hands upon the open window sill and leaned out as he gulped in the cool air. L'thae was indeed the Herald, and Andraste herself had asked a boon of him, at the same time acknowledging him as emperor...

Gaspard realized with a start that his hands were shaking. It would not do; he had to get a hold of himself.

With a sigh, he made his way over to his small desk and poured himself a glass of his favorite dessert wine. He was just about to lift it to his lips when there was a soft knock on his door. He frowned. It could not be Andraste’s blessed one already.

After placing his glass back on his desk and donning his mask, he retrieved his sword from the top of his trunk. Holding it in a striking position hidden by his side, he quickly flung the door open, and blinked in surprise to discover that it was Briala who stood at his threshold.

With a quick glance to make certain no one was watching, he stepped back and allowed her to enter. It was only after he’d closed the door and angled his back towards it that he frowned and spoke, “What do you want, Briala? Certainly whatever it is might have waited until the morrow?”

Briala had the audacity to wander to his desk and help herself to his glass of wine. She then sat on his traveling trunk and observed the fine red liquid as she slowly held the glass up before her and swirled it. “Yes, normally I would avoid your company as long as possible; however there is a matter we should discuss straight away.”

With an effort, he managed to control his temper; after all, it was the first day of his reign and what better time to begin cultivating at least a semblance of patience? “Very well, speak your mind and have done with it,” he sighed, sheathing his blade and placing it back in the stand besides the fireplace.

“It concerns the Inquisitor,” Briala said, arching an eyebrow when she saw he’d been prepared to strike. “I could not help but notice the attraction between the two of you. Actually, I doubt that anyone in attendance missed it. Really, my dear; I know you despise the game, but I thought you would at least play it when necessary."

Gaspard found himself gritting his teeth, and Briala must have noted his growing irritation, for she hurriedly continued speaking.

"Might I ask what your intentions are? Are you meeting her tonight?”

“That is none of your business!” he growled, quickly moving to stand before her.

Briala seemed unconcerned, and sipped her wine casually. “My dear Emperor, anything that may affect your kingdom or your elven subjects in particular, is most definitely my business now. But don’t worry; I am not here to tell you to leave her be; I’m here to educate you so that you might be successful in your pursuit of her.”

Reaching out with a warrior’s reflexes, he snatched the wine glass from her hand and flung it out the window before she could react. “You are ruining my first night as Emperor,” he spat. “Say what it is you came here to say, so that I may be rid of you!”

“Rude!” Briala snapped, glancing out the window after her lost wine.

“It was rude of you to have helped yourself to it without asking,” he admonished, crossing his arms across his chest. “Now; you were saying?”

Briala glared at him. “I have to admit that with you on the throne Orlais will now have some measure of stability, however, for this to continue there needs to be an heir; the sooner the better. Have you given this any thought, Gaspard? Will you marry some nobleman’s vapid daughter? I would think that having gone down that road once already, that you would be eager to avoid it this time.”

He had, in truth, thought about the subject on and off during the time he’d pursued his birthright, but it had all gone out of his head the moment he’d met Lavellan. He scratched the stubble on his neck as he regarded Briala. “I think that there would already be many young De Chalons running about were I fertile. As there are not, I cannot say that there need be any rush to confirm my reproductive status.”

"Pft!", she responded. "Your late wife did not want any children and you've hardly touched anyone young enough to bear a child since. Have you given any thought at all to the advantages to be had should you make the Inquisitor your wife? The two of you would no doubt produce beautiful little princes and princesses."

He snorted. "I must admit that I've given it much thought today, but I am not certain that the advantages would outweigh the disadvantages."

"Such as?"

"I think that you are forgetting that she is also the Herald of Andraste. Proposing such a match would cause an uproar not only amongst the purists, but in the Chantry itself."

"Ah yes; the racists." Briala stood and turned her back to him to stare out the window. "I never said it would be easy, but the advantages to the country would be worth the extra effort in securing her. Just think; a future ruler of mixed blood. How better to unite our people?"

"It is something that has never been done before," he replied. "But I will not be rushed back to the alter. Besides, the Inquisitor still must face Corypheus. There is no guarantee that she would survive the battle. None of us can know the Maker's intentions, and like many of the most blessed it may be that she is not meant to remain amongst us."

His new advisor laughed. "You cannot fool me into believing that you are a believer," she challenged, a smirk on her face.

"My dear, you may be in for a shock," he smirked. "I know she is the herald, beyond all doubt... and soon all the world will as well."

Briala looked appropriately alarmed. "What do you mean by that?"

He smiled unpleasantly. "Let us change the subject. Tell me; if I were to pursue the Inquisitor as my wife, how do you think I would best go about it?"

Briala smiled thinly. “It will difficult for even you to pull off, but Lavellan holds the title of Inquisitor, and is therefore, by our laws, technically considered to be a part of the nobility. If she were to also own land in Orlais, her standing, and thus her eligibility to be queen could not be contested. As you know, there is no document formally preventing an elf from assuming that title, but you will also need to find a way to lift the known restrictions against Orlais’ half-blooded. If you could accomplish this then there could be no objection to this choice of Empress; at least not formally."

"Oui," he replied. "Our union would ensure that the Inquisition’s power would formally be tied to Orlais’ power. Under those circumstances the Counsel of Heralds would certainly welcome such a match with open arms, though I fear King Alistair would be most displeased, especially when all his elven subjects begin migrating to Orlais..”

He wandered back to his desk and poured them each a glass of wine, then returned and handed one to her as he downed his own wine in a few gulps.

“We are making the very large assumption that she would accept a proposal from me,” he laughed. “Not only am I human, but I am old enough to be her father. Her ambassador is a shrewd woman, and her spy master sharp as broken glass; they will counsel against the marriage to preserve the Inquisition’s autonomy. It is far more likely that she would consider me only as an occasional lover, and not as her husband.”

Briala took several sips from her glass. “I don’t know about that, Gaspard; the two of you already have a mutual attraction, and there is also the fact that the Dalish mate for life. If she feels strongly enough about you, then it will be you for all time… or nobody.”

Gaspard stood there for a moment, speechless as several thoughts assailed him at once. Despite giving Briala the impression that he was merely infatuated with L'thae, the fact was that he was quite smitten with her. If he had to marry, then he would certainly prefer it be to her. Adding the Inquisition’s power to his own would also cement his throne; the scandalized outcry of the nobles he despised might even provide him the excuse to eliminate his biggest opponents.

In the ensuing silence, Briala regarded him patiently as she continued sipping her wine.

He fixed her with his most charming smile. “Thank you for your counsel. I will consider it.” Taking her empty glass from her, he set both their glasses down. “And now that our meeting is concluded, let us get one thing clear, Briala; if you ever address me by my given name again I will have you flogged.” His words seemed to stun her, and he took the opportunity to steer her to the door by an elbow. Before she could protest, he opened the door, and released her with a gentle push that forced her to take a step outside.

“Yes, your radiance,” she finally replied, curtsying with a baleful stare.

He closed the door in her face. Moving to take a seat before his fireplace, Gaspard again removed his mask, and scratched his chin as he ran through all the possible ways he could proceed.

 


	2. Celebrations

It was over an hour before L'Thae was finished conferring with her advisors.

It took her another ten minutes to beg out of the victory party they were starting up, and even then she had to agree to at least make an appearance.

In the end, she was detained for a full thirty minutes, during which time, she'd had to down a full two glasses of champagne during the ongoing toasts.

Finally, her complaints of being sore, bloodied and in much need of a bath and a good night's sleep were heeded, and she was allowed to retire to her chambers.

She washed up as quickly as she could and dressed in the form-fitting but fluid Elvhen armor that she favored. Then she set about cloaking herself, and sneaking down the corridor in true rogue fashion.

She still had a challenge getting away; Leliana was a master level rogue and running into her would certainly proove disasterous.

In the end it was Dorian who managed to scare her half to death, just as she rounded the final corner leading out of their wing.

"And where do you think you're off to, hmmm?" he asked quietly, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Off to celebrate privately with a grateful Emperor, are we?"

"Shhhh!" she hissed. "I need to get away without being seen... by anyone besides you, that is. How do you always manage to catch me, anyway?"

He smirked. "You may be a first class rogue, but I'm a big fan of a type of magical signal I refer to as a rat catcher."

She leaned in close enough that she could smell the expensive, and wondrous citrus-spice scented soap and cologne he used. "If you can cover my absence, then there will be juicy gossip waiting for you in the morning."

Her handsome friend actually looked worried for a moment. "Are you certain that you know what you're getting yourself into, love?" he asked. "This is the Emperor, after all..."

She smiled, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for always having my back, Dorian, but all will be well."

"Very well. I'll take care of everything. Just be sure no one sees you come back in... and do be careful."

She pecked him on the cheek before fading from view and moving off.

=============

In the end, L'thae opted to sneak into Gaspard's room via the tiny ledge outside his window. Although there were guards up on the roof, she was able to stick to the shadows where she was pretty much invisible.

She stole a look in the open window and saw that he was standing before the fireplace with a glass in his hand, and staring into the flames in a way that left no doubt that he was deep in thought. He'd changed into casual clothing; a shirt, breeches, stockings and shoes. Around his waist was a red cummerbund.

She had to admit that she thought he looked very handsome.

With one more glance to be sure the guards weren't currently watching, she hoisted herself inside and drew the curtains, startling Gaspard out of his reflection.

To his credit, he quickly sized up the situation, and moved to the remaining window, drawing that curtain before the guards could spot her.

"Pardon," she greeted. "I was detained longer than expected, and then ran into several heavily guarded hallways. I had no choice but to use the window."

He grimaced. "Think how difficult it will be to get to me once I'm moved to the Royal Suite..." He shook his head sadly. "Ah well; we shall cross that bridge when we come to it."

She laughed. "I didn't realize I had an open invitation."

He smirked as he kissed her hand. "Who says you do?"

She grinned. "As saviour of the exaulted ass, I would say I do."

"Such language!" he tutted, clearly amused. "So unlady-like..."

She followed him as he moved to his desk. "Useful sometimes, as I am sure you are aware."

He poured her a glass of brandy, and turned to hand it to her. "True enough, however, I would caution you to take care that it does not become a habit. As Andraste's Herald and head of the Inquisition, much of your authority depends upon the image you project. You and I; we cannot afford to appear to be mere people."

She frowned. "I have an associate who would have instantly skewered you with an arrow upon hearing that."

He chuckled. "Your acquaintance is obviously not in a position of power." He gestured towards the two chairs in front of the fireplace. "But enough of that; come, have a seat and enjoy your brandy."

=============

"Well, hello there."

The silver-haired elven maid looked up from where she knelt scrubbing the marble floor to find the very handsome Tevinter Inquisition mage looking down at her.

"Yes sir; is there something you need?" she asked tentatively. One never knew what a guest might end up asking for.

Dorian straightened up from where he'd been leaning on the wall. "How would you like to make two gold coins?"

Now that got her interest. She quickly scrambled to her feet, as she dried her hands on her apron. "How?" she asked, suspiciously.

"All you need do is sleep in a very comfy bed, with me nearby... no sex involved, I swear."

Annoyed, she turned away, and made to resume her chores. "There isn't an elf in this palace who hasn't fallen for that one. I am not a whore!"

"And I am not a liar," he replied calmly. "I only require you to stay in a bed until sometime this afternoon. There may even be a free glass of champagne in it for you. Are you certain you're not interested? It seems like a pleasant enough way to make good coin? If not, then I suppose I can find another maid who is..."

She turned back to face him, as she thought about it. Maybe it would be worth the risk; two gold coins would be enough to get her far away from here and might even allow her to set up her own business. "Alright," she agreed. "But only if you guarantee that you'll get me safely away on the morrow. I don't need any trouble!"

The Tevinter smiled warmly. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Oh; one more thing..."

Here it comes, she thought. "Yes?"

"Would you be so kind as to round up two used wine glasses, and several empty wine bottles?"

"What on Thedas do you need with those?"

"It's all part of an elaborate prank," he laughed. "You'll love it."

She sighed. "Very well, sir. Give me a moment and I'll meet you back here."

He nodded. "Hurry, and don't be seen."

With a final nod, she made a beeline towards the nearest balcony, knowing that there were plenty of glasses and bottles there needing to be cleared.

================

L'thae leaded back in her chair and laughed at Gaspard’s humorous war story, and admitted to herself that she was greatly enjoying his company. She felt flushed, warm and happy, and it had been a long time since she'd been able to forget all her problems and responsibilities.

He'd stopped drinking a while ago, and as their laughter died down, he was regarding her with a genuine expression of affection. She was surprised when he stood up, held out his hand, and then pulled her up to her feet. He had her in his arms almost before she had her balance.

"Ma petite belle," he purred near her ear. "You've bewitched me, but I wonder; What exactly do you think of me? The stories circulating about me... They are not so nice."

"I'm willing to judge you on your actions going forward, after all; most of what I've seen written about me is false."

"Go on," he chuckled, nuzzling her neck. "Tell me the truth; could you find a man like me attractive? Could you come to trust me?"

Turning so that her lips actually brushed his ear, and having the satisfaction of hearing his indrawn breath, she whispered, “It is true that I find the new Emperor pleasing, but I wonder if he remembers who he flirts with; I am Dalish, through and through, and that makes me nothing more than a lowly elf in the eyes of Orlais.”

To her shock, he grasped her shoulders, claiming her lips in a fiery kiss; his tongue eventually seeking entrance as she woozily complied. He ravished her mouth thoroughly before slowing down and teasing her lips and tongue with his own. She saw stars as he explored her, and her legs grew weak as a searing need she’d never felt before surged through her.

He supported her weight, and when, long moments later, he lifted his mouth away, he was as out of breath as she was. “I could never forget that you are Dalish, my lady,” he husked. “You are wild and untamed; wise and deadly. You are beauty and grace incarnate. My friend; my savior… you could never be anything less than spectacular in my eyes,” He trailed small kisses across her cheek to her ear. “I would never wish to cage you, and I do not need the court’s approval when it comes to whom I may admire. Many things must now change in Orlais, and I look forward to having both your counsel, and… friendship in the years to come.”

L’thae was stunned. “And why would you wish that, Highness, when I’ve heard that you once tried to push through a law that would make ‘associating’ with an elf the same as fornicating with a beast?” she asked, placing her hands on his chest and pushing.

He stood his ground for a moment; an immovable object if ever there was one, but then he relented and stepped back. “And did I not hear you call Briala a rabbit not a short while ago?” she continued.

To her surprise he remained relaxed and even laughed as he stepped back another pace. “It was some fool at the Academy who started writing a paper on human-elven relations."

Gaspard had a sour expression on his face. "The man you speak of was quickly discredited and disappeared shortly afterwards. I had nothing at all to do with that scandal,” he replied quickly, “but then again, there are many things that have been falsely attributed to me. Think on it; of course Celene would have needed to do her best to discredit me, lest public favor begin to swing back in the direction of the rightful heir."

The Emperor shook his head as he collapsed back into his chair, snatching up the brandy decanter and gulping the remaining liquid down. After a moment, he replaced the decanter and regarded her. "And as for my comment to Briala; I apologize. I was raised to look on the term as an endearment of sorts. I will, of course do my best to refrain from using that term going forwards. You may not know this, but Briala did save my life some time ago, and so I look upon our current arrangement as a way to make good on my debt to her.”

She resumed her seat, and held his gaze. "I'm glad to hear that, and I'm glad to hear your side of the story."

Gaspard gave her a charming, relaxed smile. "Now then, have you any other concerns you would see addressed?”

His explanations made perfect sense, and although they might be clever lies, something told her that he was being honest with her. Maybe it was his obvious indignation over the incidents in question, or maybe it was just her gut instinct, but she believed him.

“You make it sound as though we are negotiating something,” she smirked.

He nodded. “We are, my dear; we are negotiating you… and me.” To her surprise, he stood and put some distance between them; choosing to lean against the fireplace mantle. "Then again, this is something we can continue tomorrow. It is nearly dawn and we've both had a good deal to drink," he sighed.

She glanced at the window and was stunned to see that the first light of day was indeed lighting the sky. Then she turned her gaze back to warrior standing before her and was struck by the guarded look on his face. She could plainly see that he did not really want her to leave, so she reasoned that his gallant offer to call it a night meant that he must not see her as a mere conquest.

She knew that their titles would complicate their relationship. She even knew that he would eventually have to marry, but Maker preserve her, she wanted whatever she could have of him. If she died in one of the many battles still before her, then she did not want to die regretting what might have been.

Standing, she slowly approached him, and using a sultry pitch, she made her move. "I don't think we're that incapacitated." She smiled up at him. As he turned to face her, she ran her right hand down his left flank before snaking it behind him to squeeze his buttock. "I think we should continue the negotiations."

His raised eyebrows made it clear that her words and actions were very unexpected. "Please, ma belle; I am trying to do the honorable thing where you are concerned." He husked. "As Emperor my time will rarely be my own... and only a short time ago I learned that the Dalish mate for life. You deserve more than a part time lover."

She felt her face flame. "I'll take what you can give me. There are very few of my people about, and I daresay that none would be interested in pursuing the head of a shemlen organization. I no longer consider myself bound by the traditions of my people; besides, they've likely already disowned me." Parting his collar, she leaned in and kissed the notch at the base of his neck. "Please, Gaspard, will you let me stay?"

He grasped her shoulders and moved her back so that he could make eye contact. "You deserve more time to consider whatever this between us is. And what of Andraste; what would she think about her Herald fornicating with a man old enough to be her father?"

L'thae suddenly heard her lady's musical laughter fading away to her left, and remembered her words about Gaspard not being her Mafereth.

Reaching up, she grasped his collar with both hands and brought his face down so that their lips were inches away. "She has already given her approval," she replied, just before kissing him with all the passion in her.

After several blistering moments, he tore his mouth away. "L'thae," he groaned. "I am not a 'nice' man; far from it. I do what must be done to secure my rule and my country. I will do what must be done to save our world. I cannot afford nicities. I am not your knight in shining armor, no matter my nobility and fine Chevalier's Tack. To become allied with me is to put yourself in harm's way. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I've found in my time leading the Inquisition that sometimes there is time for 'nicities'. If, going forward, you are willing to be more diplomatic in handling certain situations, then I see no reason we cannot have... an amicable and mutually satisfying association. As to the rest; I've been in danger since I left my clan, and this mark might very well kill me in the end. I've no use for a knight in shining armor. What I do need is a lover who understands the burdens I bear."

His eyes took on the gleam of a hungry wolf as he stared down at her. "Very well, chere; let us see how we do," he replied, in a very low-pitched whisper.

====================

As the Inquisition celebration was winding down, there was one person who wasn't nearly as tipsy as the others. Liliana nursed her glass of champagne and seripticiously scanned the room.

Even in the middle of a party, she was always careful to note everything that might be of importance, and right now she was highly suspicious of the continued absence of both the Inquisitor and Dorian.

Although it was well known that the two of them favored each other's company, and often preferred to drink together rather than around the others, it seemed most likely to her that their leader was likely sneaking off to meet Gaspard and Dorian was covering for her.

The mage had come up to her earlier, about an hour after the Inquisitor had excused herself for a bath, and made a point of telling her that L'thae was tired and that they were going to have a few drinks before turning in.

It was time to find out if that was true.  
Making her way down the hallway to the Inquisitor's room, she knocked lightly and then immediately let herself in.

The room was dark, so she closed the door quietly behind her and waited there as her eyes adjusted.

As she waited, she was able to make out a faint snore coming from the bed. As the Dalish did not snore; ever, she surmised that there was someone besides L'thae in the room.

Soon enough, she was able to make out more in the darkness, and she creeped close enough to the bed to see that it was Dorian whom she'd heard snoring. He was laying on his stomach atop the covers, with his head and one arm lolling over the foot of the bed. His staff was on the floor just out of reach of his trailing arm.

Her foot hit something and she froze. Looking down she saw that it was one of two empty glasses, both overturned, and surrounded by several empty bottles of wine.

The two of them must be stinking drunk, she realized.... or were they? Was L'thae even there?

Squinting her eyes, she was able to make out the Inquisitor's form under the covers on the far side of the bed. She was facing away, but Leliana was able to make out her pointed ear, and her silver hair spilling out onto the pillow.

She slowly made to walk around Dorian so she could check on the Inquisitor, when there was a sudden vibration in the air and Dorian cracked open one gray-green eye to stare at her.

"Shpying on ush? How unlike you," he slurred, refusing to even move. "As you can see, I always sssset a signaaalllll... sho, no ush in trying to sneak up on ush."

"I apologize," she replied. "I just wanted to check up on the Inquisitor to make sure she was safe."

"Sheesh very drunk, but otherwise fine," he groaned, rolling onto his side. "And sheesh safe wif me, so now you've sheen her, kindly be off and leave ush to our hangovers."

"Yes. Sorry to have awakened you." Leliana turned and quickly exited the room. After closing the door behind her, she stayed and listened for a good ten minutes. All she heard was another groan from Dorian, and shortly after a resumption of his light snores.

All seemed to be in order, so why did she have the feeling she’d just been out maneuvered? With a sigh, she headed back towards the chamber she was sharing with Josephine.

Back in the room, the elven maid looked over her shoulder at Dorian.

"She's gone," he confirmed.

"Looks like your trick worked."

He nodded. "Of course it did, but let's stay as we are until the Inquisitor returns; I don't trust Leliana as far as I can throw her.

===================

The next thing L'thae knew, Gaspard was lifting her off her feet and holding her to him as he ravished her mouth.

"Mmmmm! Gaspard...," she moaned, losing herself in the heady sensation. "Please don't stop. I want you so badly it hurts."

Gaspard's tight rein upon himself broke. With a growl, he turned and pinned her to the wall, grinding against her as he alternated worrying the side of her neck with his teeth and ravishing her mouth.

She was being overwhelmed with sensation and could barely keep up with him, so she wrapped her legs around him and held on for dear life.

As the onslaught continued, she moaned out his name often enough that he actually replied. "Oui, c'est moi, ma coeur..." He held her jaw and made her look at him. "Aller de l'avant, il sera toujours de moi."

She saw that he was watching her intently. "What does that mean?" she whispered.

He let out a small chuckle and kissed her on the nose. "You will figure it out someday."

She wished with all her heart that she understood Orlesian, and vowed to learn as soon as possible. Just then Gaspard let out an exasperated sounding, "Trop de vêtements!" as his hands continued to work at peeling away her armor.

"Put me down," she asked, unwinding her legs and dropping them. She was at least able to make out the Orlesian word for clothes and guessed at the cause of his frustration.

He wasted no time in doing so, and following her lead, quickly made short work of helping her to remove all but her smalls.

As her her inner robe hit the floor, he let out an approving sound and used both hands to hold her at arms length so that he could look her over, as she stood nervously in front of him.

She needn't have worried; he seemed enraptured by the sight of her. "You are so lovely..." he finally breathed, before sweeping her back up into his arms.

After a dizzying moment she found herself carefully deposited on the bed, and when she looked up, she blushed furiously to see him undressing.

Gaspard took his time removing each article of clothing, all the while holding her gaze. First he undid his cummerbund, and then he slowly unbuttoned is shirt. As he peeled it off, exposing his heavily muscled torsoe, L’thae held her arms out to him. She wanted to run her hands through the sparse gray hair that was sprinkled across his chest and trailed down his belly to disappear into his breeches.

"So impatient!" he laughed, then sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and stockings.

She was straddling his lap before he knew what had happened, and quickly wound her arms around his neck as she kissed him. Moving across his cheek, she switched to nibbling his jawline. "I have you now..." she whispered near his ear.

"Orlais surrenders to the Inquisition," he husked, laying back, with his arms outstretched.

L'thae found herself sprawled atop him, and wasted no time running her hands over his chest, shoulders, and upper arms. Dispite his age, Gaspard had a chiseled, muscular build that few men in their twenties could match. Scars crisscrossed his torso, appearing as silvery lines against his dusky toned skin.

"Truly?" she finally asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Hmm... we shall see," he replied. "It could be that in the end it is the Inquisition that surrenders to Orlais tonight."

She grinned at him and then began kissing and nibbling her way down his chest. His nipples were small and hard, and as she scooted backwards over his belly, she quickly discovered that they weren't the only part of him at attention.

As she settled over the impressive bulge in his breeches, he groaned and bucked upwards, and the pleasurable sensation that shot through her at the contact made her reflexively grind against him.

"Alors! You are going to end me too quickly, my little vixen," he ground out, gripping her hips to hold her still. "It has been far too long."

L'thae was thrilled to discover the power she could exert over him, and quickly decided to level the playing field. "Can I... remove your breeches, your radiance?" she asked coyly.

He swallowed reflexively, and loosened his grip. "Oui."

She quickly undid the buttons on the side of his breeches and then scooted further down his torso as she carefully worked them down. Standing up, she tugged the offending garment the rest of the way off, and threw it on the floor.

"See something you like?" he smirked up at her.

Indeed, she did. Licking her lips at the sight of him sprawled out before her in nothing but his bulging smalls, she climbed back atop him and dipped down to kiss his navel. "You know it," she replied, as she began to trail her lips down his belly.

"Maker sauve-moi!" he exclaimed as she planted her mouth on his smalls directly over the tip of him and breathed warm air out through the fabric.

His arms gripped her as he effortlessly flipped them so he had her pinned. "Hmmm... now it is you who are at my mercy," he husked, taking hold of her hips and grinding against her. "Mon petite chou, you are so small next to me that this seems almost indecent," he groaned. "The things I want to do to you..."

"What's stopping you?" L'Thae threw her head back as she in turn ground up against him. Her smalls were soaked and she found herself wanting to get straight to the main event, but Gaspard obviously had other plans.

"I don't want to hurt you, so take care not to push me beyond my control," he cautioned, "I think it best that we take things slowly this time, but as you can clearly see... I am more than up for your challenge." With a wicked grin, he untied his last remaing article of clothing and let it drop away.

She certainly could not argue his statement; she was unable to take her eyes off his cock; it was larger than she had ever imagined it would be, and it both thrilled and terrified her.

"Am I so different from your people?" he asked gently.

Meeting his gaze, she saw concern at her reaction. "I think so," she replied.

"I promise you that I will stop at any time should you ask me to," he assured her.

"If I can face down a high dragon, then I'm sure I can survive anything you can dish out."

Gaspard huffed. "Despite that you seem to be trying to wound my pride, I do so love that you've a spirit to match my own!"

Without warning, L'thae undid her smalls and pulled them off.

Gaspard's jaw snapped shut with an audible click as he stared at the flesh she'd revealed to him.

"See something you like, Gaspard?" It was her turn to smirk.

He nodded. "Maker! No hair; I'd heard... things, but I never believed them to be anything other than tall tales."

She blushed. "It's all true, I'm afraid. Without our clothing, we Dalish all look like pre-pubescent humans."

"That is not what I see when I look at you," he groaned. "but I do admit that I find the view extremely arousing."

She noted the clear, viscous fluid that was slowly oozing from his cock, and raised her eyebrows. "So I see...."

He groaned, and actually blushed. "Maker, but you're making me feel like an old letch... There is nothing for it now; I shall have to chastize you for your impertinence..."

"And how would you..." she started to ask, when he surprised her by sliding down her length, grasping her thighs, and leaning down to lick her clit. Her back arched and she threw her head back at the pleasurable sensation that shot through her, even as a strangled cry left her throat.

His laugh was positively evil, and he began to lap and flick his tongue against her with abandon.

Soon enough, she found herself unable to do anything other than groan and squirm restlessly as the pleasurable feeling intensified, and a strange pressure also began to build in her lower abdomen. When Gaspard slowly worked one of his fingers into her, it was as though a bolt of magical energy shot through her. The pressure became intense; like a spring being wound too tight, and she found herself gasping, "Please.... please!" without quite knowing what she was begging for.

After tormenting her for several more minutes, and reducing her to a crying, pleading mess, Gaspard raised his head and groaned, "Oh ma petite renarde...je suis tellement désolé, mais je ne peux pas prendre plus..."

She cried out in protest as he stopped what he was doing, withdrew his finger, and rose up over her. He kissed her breathless, and pressed her hip down to keep her from trying to rub up against him. When he broke the kiss, his expression was tense and worried. "I am sorry if I hurt you..." he breathed, as she felt him press his cock up against her opening. "Lift your knees, ma belle."

She did as he instructed, and he began gently testing her; slowly pushing against her, and then withdrawing completely before again moving forward.

It felt so good that the feelings she'd experienced earlier came rushing back at nearly full force. She encouraged him by gripping his hips and trying to pull him closer.

Gaspard complied; on the next stroke, he pushed deeper, and came up against her barrier.

They both froze.

His jaw clenched and sweat beading his forehead, as he began to increase the pressure and to slowly push into her.

She took a deep breath and nodded her assent.

Gaspard eased up, and withdrew slightly, but then surged forward.

There was a second of searing pain as he broke through her maidenhead and half buried himself in her. Her entire body locked up; her thighs clamping down on his hips in an unconscious effort to stop him.

She panted and rode it out, and when the pain eased off and she met his gaze, she found worried silverite eyes watching her intently.

"I'm alright," she reassured him, catching her breath and consciously relaxing her legs.

He leaned down to kiss her as he began to move slowly, seating himself deeper inside her with each stroke, until he was finally in as deeply as she was able to take him.

Again, he stopped, and spent a moment kissing her. "Are you able to continue?" He finally whispered, as he nibbled her ear.

She nodded; Things were slowly starting to feel good again.

In response, Gaspard continued kissing and nibbling anywhere he could reach, as he set a slow, gentle pace. "You feel so good..." he repeatedly gasped.

L'thae remained calm and focused on everything she was feeling; him, so hard and yet so slick, filling her so completely, rubbing up against her clit continuously as he kept himself pressed against all the right spots.... The sensation of being so full, and the feel of his whiskers lightly scratching her skin as his lips moved about restlessly; as he nibbled and sucked at the skin of her face and neck.

The wound-up feeling suddenly returned and began to build faster than before. "Oh... what is... ahhhh...," she panted, out of breath, and so tense she thought she would snap a bone.

"Ah, ma petite belle..." Gaspard purred near her ear. "Give into it..." He moved an arm down and ran his hand over her mound.

When his thumb pressed against her clit, she came apart...

L'thae thought she might have screamed, as a bolt of indescribable pleasure shot through her, and then continued in waves. She quite literally saw stars and unconsciously thrust her pelvis upwards, attempting to grind against him.

Gaspard continued moving for a few seconds longer, and then groaned as he buried himself as deeply as he could.

She felt him shudder, and was amazed to actually feel him pulsing inside her.

  
After a moment spent touching each other, and kissing, they both laughed and collapsed into a boneless heap.

Gaspard rolled off her and tucking her up against him as he settled on his back, then kissed her on the head. "I promise that next time will be even better."

She smiled up at him sleepily. "So... not done with me yet?"

"Non, et pas pour de nombreuses années à venir," he sniffed.

"Fereldan, please," she asked, shaking her head.

"Go to sleep, ma petite," he sighed. "We can afford a quick nap, and then, perhaps we will have more time together tonight."

L'thae leaned up to kiss him, and soon after was sound asleep.

 

 


	3. Andraste's Chosen

**Andraste’s Chosen**

L'thae awoke with a start to find Cole hovering anxiously over her.

"Hurry," he whispered. "Dorian said you'll be found out if you don't get back."

With a groan, she remembered where she was, and bolted upright into a sitting position while clutching the covers to her. Beside her, Gaspard cracked an eye open. "Go on, chere; I will see you as soon as I am able," he mumbled before drifting back off.

"Let Dorian know I'm on my way," she told Cole, and was not surprised when he immediately vanished.

She scrambled from the bed and downed some water. She had a terrible headache and her nether region was sore to the point that walking was uncomfortable. Fortunately, she was able to find a healing potion on the desktop, and within only a moment of downing it felt like her old self.

When she went to use the chamber pot, she realized she would need to clean up, so she improvised by using her smalls. She had no choice but to use the cold water at the wash stand to wipe herself off, and for a minute she grew nostalgic, remembering too many winters in the woods using ice cold river water to wash with.

Once she was dressed, her eyes turned towards Gaspard, who was gently snoring while laying on his right side. In the harsh light of day, she could barely believe what she'd done the night before. She never would have been able to throw herself at him without the liquid courage she'd imbibed. Had she done something foolish?

Moving closer, she admired him in the daylight, able to make out the scars of battles past. The most prominent was a gastly scar on his left side, straight through his flank, an exit scar in the same location on his back. He'd been run-through, and it was a miracle that his kidney had not been hit.

Just then, Gaspard turned enough so that he could see her, and reached out to grasp her hand. "A momento of a fight that was to have been to the finish," he murmured.

"So... you spared him?" she asked, running her other hand over the puckered, angry remnants of the battle.

He sighed, "Non, ma petite, Ser Michel lives; it is I who lost that duel."

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. "He spared you?"

He pulled her down onto the bed beside him and kissed her, then regarded her, his lips twisting wryly. "In a manner of speaking. I will tell you of it later if you wish, but for now; you must be going."

She wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms, but suddenly hearing voices outside the door, she was spurred to action. Giving him a quick hug and kiss, she bounded out of the bed and made her way out the way she’d first arrived; through the window.

==================

"Fasta vass!" Dorian cursed, as he paused in his endless pacing. "What is she thinking? Where is she? She'll be found out for certain if she doesn't get back in this room before Leliana comes by!"

Cole, who was sitting on top of a bureau, ducked his head and hugged his knees. "I told you; she doesn't want me to say. She is on the way, though."

"Dorian!" The elven maid, Adarian, wave him over to the window she was standing beside. "Someone is throwing pebbles at the window!"

Dorian opened the window and glanced down. "It's her! Quickly; fetch a rope out of the traveling trunk by the door!"

As soon as the rope was deployed, L'thae shimmied up as nimbly as a squirrel. In seconds, Dorian was reaching down to grasp her arm and help her the rest of the way into the room. "Hurry up; change into a nightshirt," he instructed, pushing her towards the changing screen as soon as both her feet hit the floor.

Then he turned and offered a helping hand to his hired accompliss. "Come now, Adarian; time for us to part ways."

She smiled and took his hand as she swung her legs over the sill. "Farewell, Dorian; may we meet again one day!" Then she dropped out of view, and was soon seen running towards the outer wall.

He shook his head. "Poor girl has no clue," he muttered.

"What was that?" L'thae emerged from behind the screen and began to get into bed.

"Leliana is approaching," Cole spoke, and quickly vanished.

Dorian closed the window and curtains, sat in a comfy chair and pretended to be reading, as L'thae feigned sleep.

The spymaster knocked and let herself in almost immediately, her eyes taking in everything as she closed the door behind her.

"Good morning, Leliana," Dorian greeted her. "What brings you back around so soon?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were both still breathing this morning," she chirped, smiling at him."

L'thae poked one eye out of the covers. "Go away..." she yawned.

"I'm afraid you have much on your plate today, Inquisitor. There is a judgement to start things off, if you'll recall." She made a motion with one had and servants immediately filled the room and began setting the table with a veritable smorgasbord of food.

L'thae couldn't help it; she sat bolt upright and nearly drooled. "Mmm; brunch! Thank goodness; I'm starving!"

"I bet you are," Dorian smirked.

"Did I miss something?" Leliana wore her best innocent expression."

"No!" they both replied in unison, terrified by the question.

"Well then... now that you're both fully awake, I suggest you seat yourselves and enjoy the meal. We're on a tight schedule, and it may be some time before our next repast."

The servants, done with their task, filed out of the room, and Leliana followed behind them.

"Josie should be along shortly to brief you and I will see you after I check on the preparations. Enjoy!"

She closed the door behind her, as L’thae and Dorian stared at each other and silently counted to thirty. Finally convinced that the spymaster was gone, they bolted for the table and began loading up their plates.

Ten minutes later, with edge taken off their hunger, Dorian began their much-needed conversation. "So; did you shag the Emperor last night?" he asked, sipping his tea.

"I did," she replied with a smirk.

"Oh, Amatus!" He exclaimed, raising his voice. "Are you insane?"

It was not the reaction she'd been expecting. "What? You're allowed to carry on like a ram in heat, but I cannot have an intimate encounter?" she asked, with more heat than she'd intended.

"No," he shot back. "Knowing your Dalish traditions, I cannot help but  doubt that this is going to end well for you... But, for you to also choose the one man in all of Thedas you should be avoiding like the plague...!"

"Why?" she ground out. "Why should I avoid him like the plague?"

"He's the Emperor of Orlais!" he replied in disbelief.

"Only because I made him Emperor; he would otherwise be missing his head right now," she spat.

"Well, I know that," he snarked. "And that raises my next question; why would you save someone like him and put him in the highest possible seat of power? Can you answer that?"

"Someone like him?"

"A war monger-er, yes," he threw back.

"He is military, however, as head of the Chevaliers, his honor is without question!" She spat. "He despises The Game, and only plays it when he must. He's yet to engage in any hostilities as Emperor. Now please tell me again what it is about him that offends you?"

He sighed and patted her hand. "Why him?"

She grew still, seemingly frozen in place as she asked herself the same question; why? ...And then the reason came to her in a moment of perfect clarity.

"Because he is not my Mafereth," she said so softly it was nearly a whisper.

"Pardon?"

There is a great deal that you don't know about him, Dorian, and I will explain it all to you... But first, you need to know that Andraste herself told me that he is not my Mafereth. Just think about that for a moment, will you?"

Suddenly calm once more, she set back to eating, as her friend stared at her with his mouth open.

After a while, he closed his mouth and began eating again. It wasn't until they were unable to eat another bite that he spoke again.

"So... he'll never betray you," he said softly.

"No."

"There is no way to argue that... I'm sorry that I had to put you on the spot, but I only did it because I worry about you; you know that, yes?"

She smiled. "I know. And you know I'll always love you, right?"

"Well of course you will, he laughed, reaching out to take her hand. "What's there not to love? Still, we're going to have to discuss this further later on. I don't really think you know what you are dealing with..."

===================

By late afternoon, L'thae found herself sitting on a throne to the right of Gaspard's throne, and for the first time in her life she felt regal. Leliana had outfitted her in an unbelievable layered robe of heavily embroidered gold silk, with very long burgundy silk cuffs and collar. She even had matching slippers, which seemed a shame to her, as they were completely covered by her long, trailing robes.

Josephine had spend a good deal of time on her hair; pulling it back from her face in a dozen parted sections that were then braided together to form a natural tiara. Into this was placed dozens of crystal pins and gold and burgundy colored cloisonne leaves. Her hair hung down her back, long and straight, behind the pseudo-crown, and was glossier than she ever would have thought possible. It was amazing what very expensive Orleasian hair oils could do!

Vivienne had done her makeup; outlining her lavender eyes and darkening her lashes with purple black kohl, lightly rouging het cheekbones, and staining her lips. She’d barely recognized her own reflection in the looking glass; she looked beautiful, something she'd never seen in herself before.

Best of all were the reactions of those around her; Gaspard was trying not to stare, but failing miserably, while those court syncophants who had taken delight in snubbing her at the grand ball the day before now gazed at her in a awestruck way.

She was very surprised when she and her advisors had learned that the new Emperor had granted her equality during the proceeding and given her a throne that stood at the same level as his own. It was a bold statement to all that the Inquisitor was seen as his equal, and the Inquisition as a trusted ally.

Everything had been set up in the front courtyard so that the most people could attend. As she looked out over the crowd, she could see nobles and merchants packed all the way to the gates. Atop the walls peasants and elven servants sat, having scrambled to the precarious viewing points very early on. Every balcony and landing was full.

She had to admit to being nervous; although she knew what was expected of her, this was so far beyond her experience that...

She felt cool hands descend on her shoulders, steadying and calming her instantly, and knew her lady was with her.

Gaspard's double take made it clear that he could see Andraste standing behind her, and he appeared conflicted as to whether he should kneel or remain seated.

L'thae smiled and made a small gesture to him to remain as he was just as the trumpets sounded and the progression leading the accused made an entrance.

The honor guard arrived and stopped their playing as they moved to the side. Behind them, two chevaliers preceded the disgraced Grand Duchess, who was looking much diminished.

Florianne's hands and feet were shackled and she was barefooted. She wore the same rogue's outfit as she had during their battle, now blood stained and filthy. Her hair was loose and tangled. Even her makeup had been wiped away.

Still, she held her head high, wearing a scowl, and a look of distaste upon her face. The chevaliers positioned her before the thrones and removed her chains, but remained on either side of her. The two chevaliers who had been following, positioned themselves behind her.

Florianne finally met Gaspard's gaze and nodded to him. "Dear brother..." she began.

"Silence!" Gaspard's voice cut through the crowd like a knife. "Grand Duchess Florianne De Chalons, you are guilty of plotting and carrying out the murder of Empress Celine Du Valmont, and conspiring to have me executed, all in the name of our sworn enemy, Corypheus. The only reaon that you are still alive is that the Inquisitor has asked for the honor of judging you; an honor we have granted her." He held his right arm out towards L'thae, and all heads turned in her direction.

And that is when the Lady allowed all to see her standing behind her chosen Herald, her hands on her shoulders. L'thae knew it from the glow eminating around her, even before collective gasps, shrieks and shouts of "It is her! It is Andraste!" tore through the crowd. Except for those on the walls, everyone fell to their knees.

Almost quickly as she had appeared, her Lady vanished from view, and L'thae understood it was her signal to begin.

"Citizens of Orlais," she spoke forcefully, loudly enough to carry her voice to all, "I, L'thae, Dalish master hunter of Clan Lavellan, Inquisitor, and Herald of our Lady, Andraste, do hearby sit in judgement of Grand Duchess Florianne."

"Although I am Dalish, and I believe in the old gods and my ancestors... so too do I believe in our Lady, Andraste. She delivered me from the fade for a reason; to fight the very darkspawn magister that you, Florianne, conspired with... who you sought to turn over Orlais to. And why did you do this? By your very words to me; so that you could rule... have power and wealth."

"I ask you; in a world that has been destroyed, what possible power and wealth could you have? Who would you rule but the dead?"

"The punishment you receive today comes not from me, but from Andraste herself. You shall become proof of her presence, even as you atone for your transgressions."

L'thae stood up, as an eerie light began to glow around her, and the anchor on her let hand flared to life. She pointed her left index finger at the prisoner, who now trembled before her.

"Please, mercy!!" Florianne begged, falling to her knees. "Do not send me to the fade! Kill me and have done with it, but not the fade, I beg you!"

"We are not so cruel as your would-be master. You're punishment, Florianne, is to travel this world with one foot in the fade and the other in this existence, You will not be able to touch or be touched. You will not eat, nor drink, nor sleep. Most will shun you, fear you or try to destroy you..."

Florianne was openly weeping. On her knees, she appealed to Gaspard, "Nooo! Please, brother, do not allow this! Kill me! I beg you..."

The Emperor looked away.

L'thae continued. "A harsh punishment for a terrible crime... but Andraste is not without mercy. You will not age, nor feel physical pain. You are charged with a task, which once fulfilled will release you from this punishment... provided that we defeat Corypheus."

Florianne wrung her hands together as the crowd finally regained their feet, and began to murmur loudly. "Anything! Only tell me what it is and I shall do it!"

"You will be our envoy and messenger. You will spread word of Corypheus' evil intent, and word of the battle to come. You will secure us allies where you can, and frighten those who would join our enemy. Thus has our Lady decreed, and thus it shall be. May you find redemption, Florianne."

Energy suddenly sprang unbidden from the mark, enveloping both herself and the former Grand Duchess. Pain climbed her arm, so that she had to grit her teeth, and when she thought she could bear it no longer, there was an explosion of light and color.

The next she knew, Gaspard was standing beside her, holding her up as her mark faded and became quiet. She raised her eyes as the glow surrounding Florianne dissipated.

As collective gasps and shouts erupted from those in attendance, she found that she had to bite her own cheek to keep from joining them, for Florianne still knelt before them all, but was as transparent as glass, insubstantial as a wraith. She looked down at her own hands, and wept. Then, without a word, she stood, bowed to them, turned and walked straight through the crowd and out the main palace gates.

In the wake of her passing, the crowd fell silent and all eyes turned back to the Emperor and Herald.

Gaspard made good use of it. "Go forth and spread word of what you have seen this day," he commanded. "Beware of the enemy's agents; ferret them out! Prepare for the battle ahead. Know that Orlais will stand with the Inquisition and the Herald, and we shall crush our enemy!"

The crowd went wild, enthusiastically pumping their fists, even as the guards and chevaliers moved to usher them out of palace grounds.

"Come," he addressed her, as he offered his arm. "Allow me to escort you to your rooms."

She took his arm, grateful for something to lean on. She felt drained and off kilter; as though something inside her had broken the moment Florianne had been transformed.

Aware that the Emperor was watching her with some concern, she shook it off. "Thank you, your Radiance," she replied. "I would appreciate a short break before we begin our formal negotiations."

The walk back to her room was made in silence, as each of them had much on their mind.

 ===================

Gaspard flung his mask onto a couch without stopping, as the doors to the royal chamber swung shut behind him.

He'd just bid L'thae good afternoon at her door, and been rewarded with an unexpected kiss under his jaw; the only uncovered part of his face she could reach.

"I'm so sorry about your sister," she'd whispered, and then shut the door between them before he could react.

Rushing to the upper level balcony doors, he threw them open and bolted outside to the railing, gripping it with both hands as he took rapid, deep breaths of the cool fresh air.

Visions of a silver-haired, lavender- eyed beauty haunted him. Her grace, her power... her kindness...

'Oh you foolish man,' he thought to himself. 'You've made the one error you swore you would never make; you've fallen in love.'

He rubbed his jaw furiously. 'Of all women, I've managed to fall for the one who will complicate my life beyond all imagining! I have little to bargain with; she needs nothing from me but my support, and she does not pursue my gold or social standing. Quite honestly, I do not see what it is that she sees in me...'

There was little chance that she would agree to be his mistress, and honestly, it was not the ideal solution for him either.

But to make her his wife?

To actually have a Dalish Empress?

It was madness, but then again, he'd never been one for simply giving up when the odds seemed impossible.

It was quite one thing to make a try at marrying the Inquisitor for political gain, or even as the lesser of two evils... but to marry for love? It truly raised the stakes; now it was important that he actually make it possible... It was very important to him that she not say no.

He laughed mirthlessly; 'I'm quite certain she would be horrified at the thought of becoming my empress,' he thought, and pounded his fist on the stone railing. 'However shall I secure her?'

He would have to play his cards close to his heart; have Briala begin putting his plan into action, while keeping the Counsel of Heralds in the dark as to the real reason for the changes being made. In the meantime, he had planned a romantic getaway to surprise his amoureux with tonight.

After that, he would need to find a way to keep her interested, and maybe, if he was lucky, she would make the same mistake he had...

====================

The formal negotiations between the Inquisition and Orlais began late in the afternoon. The meeting took place in a large room occupied by two long, elaborately set tables that faced each other.

L"thae sat at one table, surrounded by her three advisors, the sorceress Morrigan, their senior staff members and their scribes.

At the facing table, Gaspard sat with Briala, the Counsel of Herald members, and likewise, their senior staff members and scribrs.

Feeling nervous, and out of place, L'thae looked across the table and met the Emperor's gaze.

He had the audacity to wink surreptitiously, and she found herself hiding a smile behind her hand. The fear of failure left her; she realized her advisors would lead here and she and Gaspard would ultimately settle the matters that could not otherwise be agreed upon.

The meeting went on for hours, however ultimately it proved to be amicable, and easily settled. In the end the main points included the Emperor agreeing to broker a truce with Fereldan in the interests of the two nations uniting together against Corypheus, and their common enemies in Tevinter and Saharon. In exchange, the Inquisition would wade into the Exalted Plains and Empress de Lion, and help end the conflicts in those areas by eradicating the demons, Red Templars, and darkspawn.

A secondary, and very generous agreement gave the Inquisition access to all of Orlais, complete with any needed supplies, in exchange for complete transparency in all their dealings with Ferelden, and shared knowledge of the situation with Corypheus, Tevinter, and Seheron.

As they all made their way back to their wing of the palace, Josephine voiced her surprise at how well things had gone.

"Of course," Leliana replied. "We have something the Emperor wants, and for which he is willing to bargain."

L'thae felt her heart skip a beat, and nearly stumbled.

"What are you hiding from us," Cullen asked.

"Yes, what are you up to?" Josephine questioned.

Lelianna smiled. "I prefer not to say until I am absolutely certain."

They entered their salon in silence, but L'thae noted Josie and Cullen exchanging curious looks... while Leliana fixed her with a thoughtful stare.

She spent an uncomfortable time making small talk over tea, and then excused herself as soon as possible and went in search of Dorian.

====================

In the end, she'd found Dorian relaxing in the spa, and made plans for him to meet her at a local inn once he was presentable.

She pinned her hair up, and donned a hooded cloak before setting out for the moderately upscale Halamshiral pub they both favored, and arrived at a time when business began to pick up.

The pub was on the small side, cozy, warm, clean and out of the way. The service was good, the atmosphere friendly, and it made a good place to disappear in for a time.

Choosing a booth in an out-of-the-way corner, she ordered herself a cognac and sipped it as she waited. It had been a very long day, and she'd yet to hear from Gaspard.

Belatedly, she realized that in choosing to hide herself away off palace grounds, she'd made it impossible for him to contact her.

"Kaffas!" she swore, only to be startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Startled, L'thae looked up from her glass of cognac, to find a chevalier in full armor standing in front of her. He had his helmet under his left arm, and bowed and saluted her when she made eye contact.

"My lady."

"Yes, ser; what may I do for you?" She asked.

He moved closer to her and bent slightly so his face was within whispering distance. "I have a message for you," he replied, handing her a small, sealed letter. "I am to wait for your response," he added, straightening back up.

She looked down at the expensive vellum in her hand and noted her name written in a very elegant hand. Flipping it over, she was not the least bit surprised to recognize the Chalons crest stamped into the wax seal.

Swiftly, she pulled a small dagger out of her sleeve, and expertly sliced the envelope open before secreting the knife once more. The Chevalier's startled reaction at the blurred motion amused her greatly.

Unfolding the paper within, she began to read:

_Ma petite, I so long to have your company to myself again tonight. Will you agree to starting our rendezvous with a tour of the gardens with me at dusk?_

_Only say the word and I shall take care of all the details._

_-G_

She smiled, and sighed with relief at both the invitation, and the offer of handling the situation. Looking up, she nodded affirmatively at the chevalier.

He, in turn, nodded. "I shall meet you at the spas at sunset and escort you to the rendezvous." He saluted and headed back out of the tavern door, which swung open to reveal another two chevaliers waiting outside.

Dorian chose that moment to finally show, and gracefully stepped between the men as he entered the  establishment.

The mage looked back over his shoulder twice as he wove his way to her table and took a seat. "What is going on?" he asked, holding up a hand to wave over a barmaid.

L'thae waited until his order was taken before responding as discreetly as possible. "I received an invitation from my beau."

Dorian sighed and dropped his head into his hand in a dramatic fashion. "Please don't ask me to cover for you again tonight; I'm exhausted and need my beauty sleep," he sighed.

She shook her head and smirked at him as he lifted his head to look at her. "At least one of us will look lovely on the morrow. Not to worry, I was informed that he would take care of everything."

"How?" Just then Dorian's drink arrived, but he waited until the server departed before leaning towards her and continuing. "It would be extremely difficult for him to get around Leliana's network of spies."

"I suspect that here at the Winter Palace, Briala is more than capable matching our spymaster."

"Well, it will be interesting to see how Leliana reacts to being outplayed, provided that it comes down to that."

She frowned. "I know for certain that we're being watched; I was somehow followed here despite having taken precautions.”

"I would expect no less from the royal court." He threw back his drink, and leaned towards her. "And that reminds me that we need to have a talk about your situation."

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "We've already talked about this. Of course I'm uncertain of his motivations, but neither has he given me reason to think the worst of him... and I like him."

Dorian scowled. "L'thae, you have no idea of what marriage entails for the nobles, let alone for royalty, and you need to know what you are getting yourself into," he whispered.

"I never said I wanted to marry him," she hissed.

The Tevinter mage rolled his eyes, as he waved the barmaid over for another round. "Oh yes; a Dalish hunter willing to pair up for nothing more than a short-lived tryst... That will be the day!" he sneered.

She couldn't help it; out of patience, and not the least bit frustrated, she kicked him in the shin.

"Venhedis! Why did you do that?!" he yelled, leaning down to rub his leg while glaring at her.

"Really, Dorian, you could try to be happy for me; let me live in blissful ignorance for once. For all we know, I could be living the last few months of my life; why can’t I enjoy a romance before I die?"

He sighed, his annoyance quickly fading away, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Amatus, forgive me. I would be a poor friend indeed if I allowed you to have your heart torn open without at least trying to make you aware of the risk you are taking. I cannot simply bite my tongue and let that happen to you. Do you understand?"

She relented. "I know, and I'm sorry for kicking you, but you have to understand how difficult this is for me to begin with; how I doubt myself at every turn. I'm not certain that I've made a wise choice, and I fear what he could do to me if he chose to..."

"But being with him makes you happy, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He gave her his best smile. "Come then; finish your drink. We need to discuss the dangers of dating monarchs while we make you look even more irresistible than you already are."

====================

Just before dusk, L'thae was was clean and dressed in her Dalish hunting gear. Her hair was down once more; Josephine’s intricate braiding at the crown of her head still intact, although the crystals and adornments were gone. She'd scrubbed her face clean of makeup, but after being pestered by Dorian, had re-kohled her eyes.

"Im going to go see what Leliana is up to," Dorian said, handing her the daggers she preferred to use in battle. "I am just dying to know how your lover plans to deceive her."

A sudden knock at the door caused them both to jump with guilt.

She cracked the door open, and then opened it fully when she saw Briala standing outside.

Moving aside, she gestured into the room. "Briala; welcome. Please come in."

The elven advisor fixed her gaze upon Dorian as she responded. "Perhaps for just a moment..."

"Please allow me to introduce Dorian Pavus, Inquisition mage and my personal advisor," she replied.

Briala nodded. "Yes, I know of him; the Tevinter mage."

"Anything you have to say to me may be said in front of him. I trust him with my life," L'thae said, closing the door and facing their guest.

"Very well." Briala allowed Dorian to kiss her hand in greeting and then turned back to L'thae. "I've come to give you some advise as to certain Orlesian customs," she finally said, her voice pitched low.

"I could certainly use some pointers," L'thae admitted. "Please say what you came to say."

"Very well, it is only this; when one thinks very highly of someone, say... a lover, friend, or potential paramour, it is the custom to present them with a favor."

"A favor?"

Briala nodded. "It can be a bauble, scarf, jewelry...  It matters not, so long as the item is a personal one that means something to the giver."

"I see, but why are you telling me this, exactly?"

Dorian stepped in. "Let's stop beating about the bush. I believe that the Emperor's advisor is advising you to show your appreciation to the new Emperor, yes?"

Briala nodded. "Just so. I think I've suddenly developed a liking for you after all, Master Pavus."

Dorian winked at her. "I hear that quite often. Now, if you don't mind me saying; we're on a tight schedule, and the Inquisitor needs to start looking around for a favor."

"I will not take up any more of your time," Briala replied with a smile. Opening the door, she was gone before L'thae had even found her voice.

Dorian rounded on her. "Whatever is the matter? You look as though you've been petrified!"

She finally snapped out of her introspection. "Dorian, if Briala is saying such a thing, then it stands to reason that Gaspard does really care about me," she gasped.

"Yes, or it could be that Briala is trying to get you to do something that will scare him off."

"Why would she do that?"

"Are you joking? They’re Orlesian, remember?"

She was crestfallen. "The game..."

"Yes, but be that as it may, I think you should still have something prepared just in case."

"I'm a Dalish hunter; what do I have to give an Emperor that he might actually like?"

Dorian laughed aloud. "I have an idea...."

====================

She arrived at the outdoor spa just before sunset, and sat to watch some of the bathers as they laughed and splashed each other. The pool looked so inviting that she was envious. How nice it would be to be able to soak away her aches and pains.

"I really need to get one of these put together at Skyhold," she mused aloud. "But, oh; the ruckus it would cause!"

"Inquisitor!"

L'thae looked up to see the chevalier she'd met earlier approaching at a brisk walk.

"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked, bowing gallantly and offering her a hand up.

She took stood, and then began to follow him. To her surprise, they exited through a side gate that led the way through the narrow expanse between the side of the palace and the immense encircling wall.

She was startled when two more chevaliers fell in behind them as the large iron gate was closed and locked behind her.

Once behind the palace, she was led to a narrow area between two of the palace wings. A tree stood at the entrance to the area, and was surrounded by tall bushes which completely screened the area behind them.

Gaspard stood leaning with his back against the tree, smoking a kohl pipe. Upon seeing her, he handed it off to one of the chevaliers, as his men moved off a distance and took up guard positions around their location.

The Emperor smiled at her and held out his hand. Once she took it, he leaned down to plant a lingering kiss on it before straightening back up.

“I must apologize for leading you to believe we would be touring the gardens,” he murmured. “The truth is that I have something somewhat secretive I wished you to see, and I could not very well say so in my note.”

She was intrigued. “I can’t wait to see it.”

He leaned in close and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Then follow me, ma chere.” Then he was grasping her hand and leading her to one bush that sat next to the tree. Making his way around it, he suddenly disappeared from sight.

She had to stop herself from giggling with merriment as he tugged on her hand and his voice drifted back to her.

"Come along, my lady; I assure you it is perfectly safe back here."

She did just that, and found herself in what proved to be a very small hedge maze. A few more turns and they stepped out into the cul-de-sac.

L’thae gasped with amazement. Nestled between the windowless walls of the two palace wings stood an arbor created almost entirely from living interwoven vines.

The plants were very old; their main trunks and branches thick and strong. The foliage was so thick that it was almost impossible to make out the gentle glow of lanterns coming from within. Atop the trained growth sat a proper roof, complete with a chimney at the center.

Gaspard kicked off his shoes at the entrance and lifted aside the heavy, oiled canvas curtain that covered the entrance-way.

With a smile, she stepped past him into the wonderland that waited beyond, and found herself standing on an octagonal floor of woven rushes. Throw rugs covered nearly the entire floor, and also hung on four of the walls to help insulate the speeding area from the chill autumn breeze. Glass lanterns hung from the roof beams, and a small fire burning in the open fireplace lent their warm glow to amazing room. Best of all, the room was furnished with a large Dalish sleeping mat covered in warm fur skins, and other Dalish items such as the low-slung carved log chairs and the low, carved tables they favored.

Gaspard stepped out of the shadows behind her. "Welcome to one of the best kept secrets of the Winter Palace," he announced, moving to take her into his arms.

When they finally broke apart, she smiled warmly, and ran her hand over his grizzled cheek. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "But how...?"

"Shhhh," he kissed her again. “Let's get comfortable and I will explain."

They settled into the chairs before the fire, and Gaspard poured up some fine wine. They drank for a time and enjoyed each other’s company while nibbling canapés from the silver tray on the table between them.

"It might interest you to know that all this started out as a large gazebo," he finally said, finishing off his glass. "It was built by Emperor Judicael I, my grandfather, at the same time that he rebuilt the palace, which is why these surrounding walls were designed without windows. A few years later, my grandfather decided to humor his wife, Catrin de Hossberg, by having the original gazebo frame removed and replaced with trained flowering vines. The roof, along with most of its support beams, was left in place."

"It must have taken a very long time for the walls to fill in," she murmured.

"Oh yes; fifty years at least, and then only with the aid of some very specialized mages. My grandfather lost interest in it almost the moment he commissioned the changes, and never used it, although it remained a favored retreat of my grandmother until her death."

"Who furnished it this way?" she asked, intrigued.

He smiled as he opened another bottle. After refilling their glasses, he took a sip and continued his tale. "My uncle, Emperor Florian used to hide here quite often as a boy; whenever grandmere was not her, anyway. Do you know that he lived in fear of becoming Emperor, even though he was not next in line?"

"I'd heard," she replied. "How terrible that his worst fear came true."

"Indeed." Gaspard stared into the fire a moment. "When Florian succeeded his brother, he had the arbor cleaned up and outfitted in the Dalish style."

"How odd! Why should he do such a thing?"

Gaspard put his glass down and moved over to kneel at her feet. His voice dropped in pitch, as he slowly began to unwind one of her leggings. "He had a Dalish lover he wished to please," he crooned, his hands moving slow and sensually over her left thigh. "It was the perfect place to carry on without his wife... or mistress knowing."

"That cannot be," she replied without thinking. "He had no heirs; his daughter died during the hundred days cough, and he died without producing any other children. Surely his lover would have considered him her mate, had his children... She would not have risked excommunication from her people for a simple tryst..." She snapped her jaw shut as her brain caught up with her mouth.

Gaspard's eyes glittered intensely, as his hands stilled and he leaned in closer. It seemed to her that he was looking right through her; trying to read her thoughts. "It sounds to me as though you have a singular understanding of the situation, and that speaks well to me of your own motives in being my lover." Then he sighed, and leaned in the rest of the way, kissing her soundly. When he broke away and resumed his unwinding of her wraps, he was breathing as hard as she was. "But, I digress; the fact is that Emperor's Dalish lover was male."

It took a moment for all the ramifications to coalesce, and in the end all she could manage was a feeble, "Oh...."

He pulled the last of her right legging free and grinned at her. "Oh indeed. Together, they made good use of this place all the way up until Florian's death."

"What happened to his lover?" she asked.

He shrugged, as he began working on her right leg. "No one knows; he vanished without a trace, but let us change the subject; you were magnificent at the judgement today."

She felt herself blush and he laughed softly at her lack of response, quickly finishing the task he’d set himself to.

"You were equally impressive at the negotiations..." he husked, his hands running up her thighs until they met the short leather leggings she wore under her hunting skirt.

She squeaked, then laughed at the amused look on his face. "If you only knew of my life as Inquisitor, you wouldn't be so surprised."

He gently gripped her hips and pulled her close, nibbling her lips and then seeking entrance with his tongue. "How can it be that I've missed you this much, when you were in my bed just this morning?" he mused, as he nibbled her earlobe.

She felt herself turn to jelly in his arms, and sighed with contentment.

His hands moved down and around, squeezing her buttocks and suddenly sliding her down off the chair to straddle his lap. Again, he claimed her mouth, as he pressed her to him so she was in no doubt of his desire.

"I missed you, too," she moaned, as they came up for air.

"Convince me," he panted, staring at her through half-lidded eyes.

She embraced him beneath his arms, and began grinding against his arousal, while latching her mouth onto his neck just below his jaw. She alternately sucked and nibbled his skin, quickly losing herself in the smell and taste of him, as well as the building pleasure from the stimulation to her crotch.

“Oh, mon amour sauvage et magnifique, la façon dont vous me faites l'impression que je suis un jeune homme nouveau et insensé,” he groaned, tilting his head back to give her better access.

“I know what mon amour means,” she husked, as she continued teasing him.

“Ah, but someone is getting ahead of herself,” he gasped out. “One mustn't take things out of context, you know.”

She had the audacity to laugh at him, to which he shot her a mock affronted look; a look which then turned devilish. Reaching behind him, he pulled a small knife from his waistband and began to run the flat side up her thigh.

She froze, suddenly afraid that she’d walked into a trap; made the wrong choice after all.

“Relax, you silly thing…” he sighed. “I would never hurt you, but these impenetrable underpants must go right this minute or I shall lose my mind, and I am not in the mood to let you off me so that you may remove them!”

She didn’t completely relax until she felt the knife part the leather on one side.

He made a triumphant sound as he peeled the offending garment off her right side and flung it away. Then he tossed the knife as well; and she heard it strike a wooden vine and stick. He regarded her for a moment, concern replacing the passion on his face. “Ma petite, you are shaking,” he said softly, as he ran his warm hands over her legs. “Did you really think I would hurt you?”

She decided to be truthful. “It wouldn’t be the first time one of my people had their trust rewarded with rape… however that is not why I am shaking.”

“Why then?” he asked, leaning back in to reverse their play of a few minutes past, and suck on her neck.

She groaned, and reached for the closure on his breeches. “I’m shaking because I want you so badly. This position seems so…” Words failed her.

“Filthy? Erotic?” he supplied, reaching down to help her free him. “Mmmm, much better,” he sighed as his penis sprang free. Then he slid his hand up her thigh to explore her. “Ah yes,” he husked. “As I’d hoped; you are as needful as I. Shall we dispense with the preliminaries?”

She knew she was dripping; she had to be, considering the fierce ache deep down in her groin. “Must I beg?” she challenged him.

With a small, knowing chuckle, he tilted his hips, bringing himself in contact with her, and then he slowly thrust upwards, parting her and sliding slowly into her.

The pain L’thae had expected was blessedly absent this time. She gripped him tightly as she felt him stretch her, the sensation powerful. It sparked a need in her that seemed to take away her ability to reason, and she squirmed and thrust downwards to engulf him as quickly as she could.

He groaned as she finished taking as much of him as she could, and then claimed her mouth in a fiery battle of lips and tongues, even as he began rocking in and out of her. He kept up the pace, now and then pulling his head back so that he could meet her gaze.

 And she felt herself climbing to new heights; coiling so tightly that she felt something inside would burst. She was nearly there… at that place where pure pleasure would claim her, when she felt him swell and harden even further. He felt like hot steel within her, and she began falling over the edge.

“Ahhh!” he moaned. “Mon amour…. I cannot hold back; I am going to cum…”

That was it; she cried out as sensation crashed down on her, carrying her away to a place of pure pleasure. Distantly, she heard Gaspard’s cry join her own, and felt him bury himself to the hilt, as his cock pulsed within her.

She collapsed on him, limp as a noodle, sweating and gasping for air, as he kissed every part of her he could reach, murmuring words she could not understand, but which she felt were loving.

As she came back to herself, he gently swept her hair off her face and kissed her nose. “You are going to kill me one day,” he murmured with a smile. “My old heart… it feels too full.”

She laughed. “Oh you Orlesians and your fine words… Are you telling me that you would not wish to die this way?”

He laughed as well. “Not at all; but oh, the scandal!” Somehow he managed to hoist her up, as he stood on shaky legs. Walking them over to the bedding, he dropped down to his knees atop the soft, hay filled mattress, and lowered her onto her back. Then he covered them both, wrapped her in his arms and with a final kiss bade her to sleep.

Later on, in the dead of night, he kissed her awake, and pulling her atop him, encouraged her to make use of him once more.

She did so. Gladly.

=========================

She awoke early the next morning in his arms. Looking up at him, she could see he was already awake and watching her.

“Bon matin, ma petite,” he murmured, kissing her on the forehead.

She hugged him tighter and tilted her head back so that she could collect a proper kiss.

Gaspard complied, and then gently nudged her onto her back, as he turned on his side to face her. Propping his head up on his arm, he regarded her seriously, and brushed some stray hairs away from her face.

“May I ask you a question?”

At her nod, he continued, “I was taught that the adult Dalish always have tattoos upon their faces; why is it that you do not?”

It wasn't the first time she'd been asked the same question, so she should be used to the stab of shame she always felt when the subject was raised. “They're called vallaslin,” she explained. “I did have them, but for some reason, when I was thrown back out of the fade, they were gone.”

“I can hear the sadness in your voice,” he sighed. “And I am sorry to hear the pain it causes you, but may I ask what they symbolize?”

“The vallaslin are also referred to as blood writing,” she explained. “We each have the Vallaslin of our chosen God etched into our face when we come of age.”

He nodded. “Then perhaps Andraste removed them?” he asked, tentatively. “After all; how could you be the Herald of the Maker’s bride, and yet wear the sign of a Dalish deity?”

She stared at him as she realized that he was most likely correct, and admitted, “That is the most likely explanation.”

He ran a finger down her nose. “Oui. It seems you have a large theological conflict to puzzle out.”

She smiled. “I know; I'm a mess.”

“You most certainly are not,” he assured her. “We all have our moments of doubt; you at least, have proof of Andraste's presence in our world. Because of you many others now do as well.”

She nodded. “There is comfort in knowing she is with me.” She stole a glance at the fireplace and noted that the remaining embers were nearly out. On the other side, she could see daylight showing around the canvassed entryway. “It looks like it's time for me to go; we'd planned to ride out before noon.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Before you leave me, I've something I wish to discuss.”

“What is it?” she asked.

"I fear for you," he finally admitted. "Your task, your enemies... I fear that when you ride out through the gates tomorrow, that I may never see you again."

She was deeply touched, elated at his admission, and stretched her arm up so that she could caress his jaw. "I fear the same, emma lath, but I have no choice other than to see this through. Corypheus is a monster and he must be stopped else our entire world is forfeit."

"I know this, but it does not make it any easier." He covered her hand with his own and turned his head to kiss her palm. "I've sent friends and family into battle knowing the risks. I've faced their deaths with acceptance... yet, I cannot find it in me to accept the possibility of your loss."

She was stunned. "I fear for your safety as well, Gaspard. You must beware of Tevinter agents while I am away.”

“Briala is alert to the possibility,” he replied.

“Since meeting you, for the first time I feel that it will all turn out alright," she tried to reassure him.

He didn't reply at first, but instead removed a ring from his right pinkie and placed it over her right middle finger, the only finger it would not fall off. "This is the Puzzle ring of the Black Fox. I've worn it for many years, but it is now yours.

She made to protest, but he hushed her. "I will not take no for an answer, ma petite. This ring may save your life; accept it. Use it."

"What does it do?"

"It will guide you to make the right choices during combat. The ring shows its wearer openings and opportunities.”

She pulled him down to her and kissed him soundly. "Thank you."

Several minutes later, he threw the fur skins off them, exposing them to the chill morning air. He laughed when she squealed, and swatted her backside as she scrambled for her clothing. “Allez!” he yelled. “You vixen; trying to keep me abed! You will ruin us both!”

Laughing as well, she dressed and reapplied her leggings as he began gathering his things.

While he looked for his stockings, she slipped the favor she'd made him under his shirt. Then she jumped on his back, kissed his cheek, and fled before he had a chance to find her out.

====================

Translations:

“Oh, mon amour sauvage et magnifique, la façon dont vous me faites l'impression que je suis un jeune homme insensé de nouveau.” (Oh, my wild and beautiful love, how you make me feel like I am a young foolish man again.)

“Allez!” (Go!”)

“Emma lath” (my love)  
  


 


	4. Ill Conceived

L'thae hightailed it back to her room as quickly as decorum would allow, and found Dorian in the process of packing her trunks for her.

He dropped everything, and turned to face her the moment she closed the door behind her. "Another successful night, I see," he quipped. "You're glowing like a Chantry Sister just back from a barracks visit."

"Dorian!" she scolded, her reprimand completely ineffectual due to her inability to maintain a stern expression.

He walked over, put an arm around her shoulders, and gave her a pec on the cheek. "Well then," he said, straightening up, "Let's change the subject for a bit; You'll never guess how Briala handled your absence last night."

She moved away from him and began packing the remainder of her things in order to help dissipate her nervous energy. "How?"

Dorian snorted. "She met with Leliana in private, and straight up informed her that for your own safety, and the Emperor's, she'd made certain to neutralize her spies."

L'thae turned to face him, extremely confused by Briala’s tactic. "That would be difficult for her to explain."

Her friend sighed. "You would think so, however she then informed our illustrious spymaster that she was certain she would agree that it was imperative that no one know that the two of you are lovers."

She felt faint, and leaned on the bed. "No.....!"

"Are you alright?" he laughed. "You've gone white as a sheet."

She merely stared at him.

"Yes, its true; Briala told her the truth and Leliana wasn't at all surprised. In point of fact, she thanked her, agreed with her, and then took tea with her. I do believe that they hit it off."

L'thae scowled. "Wait a moment; how would you even know all this?"

He looked smug. "A not so little birdie told me. You might know her; alabaster skin, raven black hair..."

"Morrigan?"

"Just so. Believe me when I tell you that there are sides of her that you’ve not yet seen. It seems that she is highly skilled in transmogrification; she can become a raven, and who knows what else! It's a good thing that she's now one of ours."

Her head spinning at this latest news, L’thae wondered aloud, "And why would she tell you this?"

"Pft! Of course she knows I'm your best friend; everyone does. She told me assuming it was no secret to me, and also so that you would know straight away." 

She frowned. "But how far can we trust her? We don't really know her at all."

Dorian shook his head. "Let's hope we can; there is little that one misses."

L'thae turned back to her packing. "I'm not pleased that Leliana knows," came her shaky reply. "It will mean trouble. Neither do I want her trying to twist my relationship to her own advantage."

Dorian sighed. "Yes, I know what you mean, and I've given it some thought; Tell the other advisors; Cullen and Josephine can help counter Leliana."

She groaned. "Not so certain that Cullen will...."

"Go to him in private, as a friend, and ask for his help," Dorian said, patting her shoulder. "Settle the dark cloud that has fallen between you. You owe it to each other."

She was filled with anxiety at the thought. "I'm not certain it's a good idea."

He was indignant. "It is a good idea! I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't!"

"Some things are better left unsaid," she replied.

"Yes," he sighed, "and this is not one of them. If you only knew how many times he's mentioned you to me... Asked after you, in point of fact."

"Has he?" she asked, very surprised to hear it.  
Dorian groaned, as he palmed his face. "Please will you think about it?"

She nodded just as there was a knock on the door. When Dorian opened it, she was happy to see that the maids were waiting outside with her bathing water. 

Dorian bid her good-bye and promised to meet her at the stables just before their scheduled departure.

Putting her concerns aside for the moment, she finished packing as she waited for her bath to be ready.

===========================

As it turned out, they were not allowed to simply saddle up and ride out; Pomp and circumstance was apparently required when it came to the Herald's departure.

And so, they found themselves escorted to an area just inside the main gates, where they stood upon crimson carpet and waited for their horses.

A large crowd had gathered on both sides of the gates, and just as their horses were led out to them, cries of "The Emperor!" swept through the crowd.

Gaspard stepped out of the press of onlookers surrounded by his Chevalier guard just as L'thae made to mount her horse, and a collective gasp was heard as he displaced the handler, moved to her side and gave her a leg up. 

Once seated, she looked down to find him grinning up at her. "The people need to remember that Emperor or not, I am also a Chevalier, and I would never let a mere stable hand help you up when I am in a position to do so."

"Thank you, your Radiance," she replied with a smile. Just then, he made to hand her the reins and instead clutched her hand.

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards when she saw what adorned his right upper arm. Wrapped twice around his pauldren was the favor she'd left him; a quarter inch thick braid of her silver hair interwoven with green gems.

Noting that she'd noticed, Gaspard leaned in as close as he decently could and spoke in a low tone, "I thank you for the favor, My Lady. I shall cherish it always."

She nodded and looked around to see that the rest of the Inquisition group were mounted and ready to go. She fell back on her best Inquisitor voice, even though she was melting inside. "We're off to the Exalted Plains first. Leliana will keep you informed of our progress from Skyhold, your Radiance."

Before releasing her hand, Gaspard pressed a folded note into it. Then he gave her the reins. "I know that Our Lady protects you, L'thae, but please be careful," he whispered.

She palmed the note, keeping it hidden from view, and was about to ask the same of him, but before she could speak, he'd already stepped away.

The Emperor spoke loudly enough that most in the crowd could hear him, as he formally wished his departing guests a safe, and successful journey. Then the huge wrought-iron gates were thrown open, and she had no choice but to urge her mount forward and lead them all away from Halamshiral.

Around them the crowd cheered loudly, but her thoughts were focused on the note now burning a hole in her pocket, and the man she was leaving behind.

=====================

The group rode together for the first day, and made camp a few hours before dark.

With such a large group, it took quite some time to get all the tents pitched, the fires burning, lamps and torches lit, and the food prepared for cooking.

Being the Inquisitor had its advantages; she always had the largest tent. Complete with carpets, a large raised bed, wood stove, desk and plenty of lamps, she could easily forget that she was on the road.

And because she had the best, and because he was her best friend, Dorian usually shared her tent. 

Normally he would move his things and his cot in under cover of darkness, then place a folding screen in front of his claimed area.

Everyone knew he did this, of course. However, everyone also knew he was not a lady's man, so nothing was ever said about it.

This evening he did not follow his usual schedule, even as he had not on the way to the Winter Palace. With the Inquisition Advisors present it would not have been wise; It just wouldn't be worth their censure and the ensuing lecture about preserving the Inquisitor's reputation.

For once, L’thae was glad for the privacy; she was dying to read her note, and so, once the tent was in order, she tied the flap closed and sat herself down at her desk. Turning up the table lamp, she unfolded the paper and began to read:

My beautiful lover (for that is what you are; beautiful, loving, and mine), 

What is between us; it is no game, but given our respective allegiances it is also very fragile a thing.

Sooner or later our secret will get out; such things always do. When that happens; what will be, will be, and so I ask you to remember this, my sweet:

This thing we have; it will be what you make of it.

She slowly folded the paper, and pondered it, trying to understand what it was that he was saying.

"What I make of it?" she whispered. "And what of his heart? Has he no desire or wish of his own?"

She carefully folded the note and hid it in her journal as she reprimanded herself. Of course he had desires, and also a heart; one she suspected that only she and Florianne, and perhaps his late wife, had ever seen.

It sounded almost as though he was telling her that she had Carte Blanche, but that was far from possible; as an elf, there was no possibility that she could fully share his life… and that was what she truly wished.

Attempting to shake off her melancholy, she rose and went in search of dinner.

=========================

Weeks later, L'thae leaned on a boulder and tried very hard to stifle the sound of her retching. She was in the area that had been designated the privy, which was to say that she was in a cul-de-sac of a typical rock outcropping. A frame with a curtain had been set in place for privacy, and latrine benches had been placed over the pits that had been dug. The smell was not helping, but in truth there was nowhere else for her to hide.

As she waited for the worst of the queasiness to pass, she thought about how she'd gotten to this point:  
After bidding the advisors, and the rest of their party good-bye, she, and her companions; Dorian, Blackwall, and Cole, had entered what was left of the Exalted Plains. 

They'd quickly discovered that the area was exactly as it had been described to them by Scout Harding; horrendous, depressing, terrifying... dead and haunted.

They'd spent four weeks cleansing the Eastern and Western ramparts, and rescuing and then assisting Gaspard's marshall, Ser Proulx. Then they'd taken back Victory Rise and Fort Revasan, defeating demons and the Freemen alike. 

As she'd liberated each militarized area, she'd informed them of Gaspard's assention to the throne, and the news had spread like wildfire. The last of the Orlesian civil war was ending, one rescue at a time.

After having set such a frantic pace, they'd taken some time out, and she'd taken her group on a detour to visit the one remaining Dalish camp in the region.

It turned out to be a bittersweet visit; although her heart was glad that her people still inhabited this land, which had once been theirs, it broke her heart to see the conditions that this one last clan was now living in. 

Worse of all, she'd been treated as though she was a shemelen by Keeper Hawen, and asked to proove her value. Deeply offended, and with gritted teeth, she’d followed through and completed all the trying tasks the clan had asked of her. 

In the end, she was not above chastizing the Keeper in retaliation for his insult; the first thing she’d done upon being welcomed as their ally, was to recruit the brightest of the clan's hunters, Lorani. 

Dispatching the Inquisition's newest agent to work for Commander Cullen, she and her team had moved on and established an Inquisition camp near a large rock outcropping, not far from the destroyed bridge known as Pont Agur that led to the largest Orlesian keep in the area; La Citadelle De Corbeau.

Ravens had been dispatched to Skyhold requesting a team of engineers be sent to restore the bridge, and it had taken two weeks for them to arrive with the heavy equipment needed to cut new blocks and hoist them into place. Once the reconstruction crew had finished their assessment, she'd been informed that it would take another two weeks to fashion a rudimentary crossing which could be used as the main reconstruction continued.

As they waited, she'd taken the team to check back in with Marshall Proulx. Upon his request, they'd agreed to look in on the Riverside Garrison, where word was that a large fade rift had opened in the catacombs below.

That was three days ago, and the same day that she'd come down ill. The nausea had begun the morning following their return to camp. 

At first she'd thought it was something she'd eaten, but each morning since, the nausea and retching had returned, and grown worse. She'd ended up putting off their mission to the garrison to give herself time to recover.

Another bout of painful dry heaves overtook her, and she spent the next few minutes silently pleading with her Lady, and every Dalish God she could think of, to please let it be over. She refused to outright cry, however, frustrated tears tracked down her face until the latest wave of retching finally subsided.

She wearily wiped her eyes and face with the back of her hand, and fought back a sob. She couldn't deny the truth any longer; she was with child. 

In any other circumstances she'd be thrilled to be carrying Gaspard's child... But as things stood, she knew she'd made a big mistake in being so wrapped up in the moment that she'd neglected to take the proper precautions before hand. 

Obviously, her attempts to do so after the fact had failed. 

She'd left the Winter Palace eight weeks ago. Autumn was well underway, and the child would likely be born in late spring.

That meant that she would either have to destroy Corypheus before she was too huge to fight, or somehow hope that she could have the child before their final showdown.

If Corypheus learned of her condition, he would use it against her; force their confrontation at the worst possible time... He had spies everywhere, therefore no one outside those she most trusted could know of the pregnancy. Would she be forced into hiding once she began to show?

And Fasta Vas, if that was not bad enough; she was carrying the heir to the Orlesian throne! She groaned and tried very hard to suppress another bout of tears. 

Could she even tell Gaspard? Was it safe to do so? 

What if he was already set to marry some Orlesian noble? It was a possibility. What kind of life could he offer a half-blooded bastard child anyway?

Taking a deep breath, she spoke quietly to the empty air around her, “Blessed Andraste… please guide me; What should I do?”

She remained perfectly still for several long moments in the hope of an answer. There wasn't one, not that she'd held out much hope, but at least she suddenly felt more like herself.

Small victories; it seemed that her Lady was going to make her find her own way, however, she'd at least soothed her stomach.

Her nausea finally under control, she walked back to her tent on wobbly legs and collapsed into her cot, hoping to get a little more sleep.

No such luck; she cracked an eye open mere moments later to find Cole hovering over her. They always sent Cole in when there was news they knew she wouldn't like.

"That is true," Cole said, reading her thoughts. "But, I have some good news as well."

She sat up. "Alright; let's hear it."

"The bridge has been restored."

She frowned. "Is that the good news, or the bad?"

"Oh, that is the good news," he replied, bobbing his head. "The bad news is that you'll have to go without breaking your fast; we've nothing left but tea."

Her stomach flipped. "How did this happen?"

"The cook says several pots and supply bags vanished overnight."

She gave him a sharp look. "But you know who did this, don't you, Cole?"

Cole dipped his head, hiding behind the large brim of his hat, and began wringing his hands together. 

"Yyyy..yes," he finally stuttered. "but they were so hungry; they didn't want to steal, but they had no choice."

She sighed. "There is always a choice, Cole. They could have asked for help."

"They felt ashamed..."

“Was it someone from the Dalish camp?" she asked. From the way he ducked his head she knew she was right. "Alright; when we get back I'll see what I can do."

His face lit up. "Thank you!" he breathed just before vanishing into thin air.

L'thae sighed, and grabbed her gear before leaving the tent. She would have to assign someone else to keep a watch at night; Cole was too kindhearted. She would also have to send a few riders out for food and other supplies.

Stopping next to the fire, she warmed her hands as she composed herself. She needed to decide whether to push on to the Citadelle, or to first rescue the Riverside Garrison.

=========================

Gaspard was sitting at his desk in his private study when the news he'd been anticipating arrived. 

"Entrez," he called out at the knock he'd come to recognize.

As expected, it was Briala, and she grinned from ear to ear as she met his gaze. "It's done."

Letting his breath out in a rush, he released the death's grip he had on the edge of the desk, and stood up. "Well, don't just stand there," he said with a smirk, "Help yourself to some Port and tell me."

She shook her head. "No Port for me right now, thank you; I've too much left to do today."

He nodded, and moved to the other side of the desk, leaning his derriere against it as she took a seat. 

"Let's hear it," he encouraged her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Comte Lothair Doucy hung himself in the night. I suppose the knowledge that I have proof of the favors he accepted from Celine in return for his support was too much for him to bear..."

"And so he took the coward's way out, rather than capitulate or risk you turning him over to me one day?" he grimaced.

"Just so." Briala's large eyes gleamed. "I told you he would."

With a sigh, he reached into his waistcoat, and seconds later, flipped a large sapphire through the air towards her. 

She easily snagged it near the end of its flight. "Thank you, your Radiance," she sighed, admiring her prize.

"I would rather have paid you a small fortune," he sniffed, "but a bet is a bet. You've excellent taste... and I won't even ask how it is that you knew I possessed this particular bauble."

"It is well that you don't; like a magician, a good spymaster never tells."

"I thought the Comte more likely to deal than to risk leaving his family destitute," Gaspard mused. "Ah well. At least I may now fill his seat on the Council with someone of my own choosing."

She pocketed the sapphire. "Two members disgraced, two executed, and one suicide. I believe the remaining members include your uncle, who will, no doubt, come around to your side, and your one time father-in-law, who is gravely ill. Congratulations; The Council of Heralds is now loyal to you."

He allowed himself a small smile. "It was easier done than I would have guessed. Those spineless fops were shitting themselves the moment I donned the crown, non?"

Briala nodded. "Even if Laurent and Germain put up a fight, I've enough information to sway them to our way of thinking."

"That is the great flaw inherent in playing The Game; that each player winds up holding secrets, which uncovered, would allow another player to destroy them."

Briala nodded. "Just so."

Gaspard nodded back, and allowed himself a small smile. "Have you any other news for me?" he asked.

"The Inquisitor has made tremendous progress in liberating our forces; Marshall Proulx reports that Le Pont Agur is being restored so that she might also lead her group against the undead at the Citadelle Du Corbeau. Word is that she will also see to the fade rift at the Riverside Garrison.

Gaspard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I never would have expected such swift results. That woman is a force to be reckoned with!"

"Indeed, your Radiance," Briala replied. "All who have stood against her have paid the ultimate price."

He straightened up, and walked to one of the large windows. "I should very much like to see how she closes these rifts," he mused aloud, looking out over the landscape. "I think it is time to surprise her with a visit, oui?"

"One moment, your Radiance," Briala replied, with a sly look. "There is something else..."

==========================

Dorian stood before the campfire, leaning on his staff, as he surreptitiously watched the Inquisitor going about her daily rounds.

He'd taken the very first opportunity after the advisors had departed their company to move himself back into her tent, and so he'd quickly become aware that lately she was feeling unwell. 

The past few mornings, he'd asked if there was anything he could do to help her, but she'd quickly smiled and waved away his concern.

This morning had been different; she'd hesitated before declining his help. 

Whatever was going on with her was not resolving on its own. He had a feeling she knew she needed his assistance, but for some reason she was not willing to ask for it.

He also knew, that as her friend, he could not allow this to continue; she wasn't eating well and had lost weight she could not afford to lose. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and appeared to be weakening.

The Anchor itself drew on her life force... It would kill her if she didn't start taking in some nutritious sustenance, and he was therefore determined to confront her on the matter.

He just had to choose his moment...

==========================

Gaspard sat before his fireplace deep in thought, his chin resting on the back of his hand. He was slouched down in his chair, his legs wide apart and his other hand balancing his wine glass on the arm rest.

Although he would have seemed relaxed to any observer, that was far from the truth; His mind was racing. His thoughts tumbled back and forth like a stormy sea. 

If Briala’s spies were correct, it seemed likely that L’thae was pregnant.

He was going to be a father!

It was still a shock and a wonder to him; he who had convinced himself that such a thing would never occur. 

He was going to be a father?

He would have to be a dolt not to understand how this circumstance would compromise the woman he loved. All their hopes rested upon her ability to defeat Corypheus. How would she be able to do that now?

If their enemy found out…. 

Chances were high that he would; after all, hadn’t his own spymaster and advisor discovered L’thae’s condition?

He shuddered for at least the hundredth time since hearing the news. Elation and trepidation warred within him. His mind would not be still, and his heart was gripped with fear.

Even with the Blessed Lady’s support, L’thae was going to need more aid in taking down the darkspawn magister.

He stood suddenly, and threw his glass into the fireplace where it shattered and briefly turned the flames blue. Then he began gathering his gear as he bellowed for his steward.

===========================

L'thae mounted her horse, and clung weakly to the saddle while attempting to hide her fatigue from her companions. One glance at Dorian made it clear that he hadn't been fooled. 

The man's shapely eyebrows were drawn down and together as he shot her a concerned look.

They'd just trudged out of the Citadelle du Corbeau after a long, drawn out, and hard fought battle to free a contingent of Celene’s loyalists, who'd barricaded themselves in the heart of the fortress.

The place had been overrun with the undead, and to make matters worse, one of the soldiers had sacrificed himself in order to activate the Citadelle's ancient elven defenses. 

In the end Commander Jehan had been shocked to learn Celene’s fate, but had quickly accepted that Gaspard was now Emperor. She'd pledged to finish putting the Citadelle back in order while awaiting her new Emperor’s orders. 

As they rode out, Dorian trotted his horse up next to hers and gave her a stern look. "Whatever is going on with you cannot continue. I saw you nearly faint after using the anchor," he said, his voice pitched low enough that the others could not hear him. "When we get back to camp, I'm going to make you a hot tonic and we are going to talk."

She sighed, relieved that he'd saved her the difficulty of opening the conversation. "As you wish, Dorian; we'll talk about it," she assured him.

==========================

Later that evening, Dorian cornered her in her tent after they'd retired for the night.

Waiting until she was beside her bed, he placed two fingers on her upper chest and gave her a gentle push; forcing her to plop down onto the mattress. She didn't object or make so much as a squeak, and he pressed his advantage; moving to stand directly in front of her, and handing her a hot mug of grog before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tell me the truth," he encouraged. “Drink your toddy, if you need some courage.”

"The truth?" she asked, fixing him with a strange look, even as she sipped. 

“Yes; You look paler than the living dead! Did you eat something you shouldn't have? Are you having feminine cramps? Surely you must have some idea what is wrong with you?”

"Are you certain you want to know?"

"Well, of course I want to know!" he exclaimed. "I asked, didn't I? I'm your friend, aren't I? I am not a healer per se, however, I may be able to help."

"I'm pregnant."

He felt as though he'd been pole-axed. Somehow he was able to force out a few words; "Come again?"

"She sighed, then spoke through a grimace; "I forgot to take precautions, and my backup attempts failed." 

He dropped heavily onto the bed beside her, snatched her drink away and drained it as she looked on with some surprise.

The drink was hot enough to scald his mouth and throat, but he barely noticed. The now empty vessel slipped from his nerveless fingers, and dropped onto the carpet below. He shook his head as he tried to breathe. “You’re carrying a child?”

She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, "Exactly; I'm pregnant with royalty."

He nearly vomited as all the implications hit home. Taking a few deep breaths, he scrubbed his face with his hand and tried to think.

“So,” she commented dryly, “Still think that you can help me?”

“Aside from marrying you so that the Lady's Herald does not become a cruel joke, you mean?”

The sudden look of shame that spread across her face caused him to mentally curse himself. With a sigh, he threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her up against him. “Sorry, love,” he apologized, patting her shoulder. “I’m still in a state of shock.” 

They sat there in silence for a few heartbeats before she suddenly turned to look at him wide-eyed. “Did you just offer to marry me?” 

“If that is what it takes to keep you safe,” he sighed. “Although I must confess that I do not relish the thought of what Gaspard might do to me if it comes to that. Now tell me; Does anyone else know?”

She shook her head. “I've done my best to hide it.”

“I can give you something for the nausea. That should help hide your condition, for the time being at least. Still, considering the timing, we won't have long before a plan has to be in place.”

She looked miserable. “I know. I messed up tremendously. Whatever happens, saving Thedas from Corypheus must remain the priority, Dorian.”

His heart hurt. “I know,” he sighed, drawing her into a hug.

They remained pressed together for some time as Dorian mentally ran through all possible scenarios. Eventually he groaned, and turned to meet her gaze. 

“I've got nothing,” he admitted. “I'm going to need a few days, and quite a lot of wine before I can give you any advice.”

She nodded. “Can I have a grog now?” she finally asked.

“No dear; You can't drink until the child is weaned,” he replied.

“Great….”

 

...To be continued...


End file.
